Humming as she walks, Kalynn descends the stairs from the girls’ dorms with a spring in her step, despite her relatively heavy bookbag weighing her down. Finding an empty place in front of the fireplace (which is hardly glowing presently; it is a rather warm Saturday morning) the little girl sits down and starts rifling through her bag. Finding, finally, what she’s been looking for, Kalynn slips a piece of parchment officially titled, ‘ELECTIVES’ from her potions text and looks it over once more. Eyebrows furrowed, she sighs as she goes looking for a quill.

With a quill sticking up from her haphazardly bundled hair, Briony‘s voice is heard rather loudly reciting the house password and she makes her way into the commonroom, looking over the very same sheet as her friend. Several steps in, she notices her friend and a giggle escapes. “Hi, Kalynn!” she says rather loudly, eliciting a loud “SHHH!” from a nearby prefect. The girl goes mum, though the smile doesn’t lessen much and she plops down facing Kalynn. “What are you going to take? There are too many choices, I really don’t know which one I want to take.” A pause. “Well, which ones. Dad wants me to take them all. What do you reckon are the easiest ones?”

Laughing, Kalynn does eventually find a quill and quickly jabs the feathery end in Briony’s direction. Scrunching her nose a little, Kalynn comments, “Don’t you think you’re asking the wrong person?” Her grin is a bit impish as she scans the sheet again. “I don’t know. I suppose art wouldn’t be too hard if you had some kind of flair for it. Or… well, I know I’m taking Care of Magical Creatures for sure,” she says with determination. “I’ve wanted to take it ever since I heard about it.” Tapping her chin, Kalynn shrugs after a few seconds of further skimming. “Arithmancy sounds like… well, it sounds like I’m not going to take it,” she says worriedly, reading the word ‘mathematics’ in the course description. “I just don’t know. What are you taking?” she asks, seemingly not having heard Briony’s prior declaration of not knowing, either.

“Oh, but that teacher sounds awful,” Briony comments, wrinkling her nose. “I’ve heard he’s horrible and mean and hates girls.” She shakes her head quickly and looks thoughtfully at her paper, scooting her chair closer to the table and plopping the paper for electives down on it. “Ugh, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes just sound confusing. I don’t want to take them, though dad says they’re the only ones really worth taking if I’m to go into anything respectable.” Briony makes a gagging face and then starts feeling around her head for the quill she has stuck up in it, and pulls it out, weilding it an poking at her parchment. “Maybe music would be fun. Or art… I’ve always wanted to learn to draw well. There was this girl who used to live down the street from me who was really good at it. I’m not sure I could be that good. Maybe… well, hmm. What about Divination? Isn’t that one supposed to be kind of a… well, a pretend class?”

“Pretend class?” echoes Kalynn excitedly. “That’s what I need, something to boost my average!” she exclaims, nodding and quickly circling DIVINATION on her electives sheet. “Oh, the professor is mean?” Kalynn asks, wincing. “Well… but… I can’t just take the class because the professor has bad rumors around him,” she says slowly. “Anyways, nothing’s to say he’ll be here forever. Maybe if he’s too mean, he’ll get sacked and we’ll get a lovely professor to replace him,” Kalynn reasons hopefully, also circling Professor Helit’s subject on her parchment. She sighs once more, resting her elbow on a raised knee, and her chin on her palm. “You’re so lucky to have your parents’ input on this,” she notes, looking somewhat depressed, an odd sight. “My parents don’t have a clue… like me.”

“You could go ask my mum, if you want!” Briony suggests, bouncing a bit. “She’ll be likely to help. She’s always really nice and helpful to everybody, after all.” Briony beams, and it is clear that she does have affection for her mother, even if her mother is at the school when she doesn’t want to be. “I think learning about animals would be fun. Let’s both take that class, okay? We can be mean back to the teacher if he’s dumb and mean to us.” Briony nods decisively and then puts a big check mark next to it. “And Divination, too, right? That should be fun, I hope.” There is a quiet pause while Briony chews her lip and looks over her list some more. “But I kind of want to take music and art… what if I took those instead? Maybe I could take them also.”

Nodding, Kalynn murmurs, “Maybe I’ll talk to your mum,” before looking up a few seconds later with a grin. “We can’t be too awful to the professor,” says Kalynn, squinting one eye. “Or we’ll lose even more points. Not all professors are fair about what they take points away for, unfortunately,” Kalynn points out. “And… Gryffindor’s taken a beating this year.” Shrugging, Kalynn indicates that she has other things besides the house cup on her mind presently. “I’m not very good at music,” she says, “but art could be fun. I’m going with that,” she nods decisively as she circles her last choice on her paper. “Three is good. More than the minimum, but not enough to make me crazy,” she explains candidly, folding up the parchment.

Blushing a hard red, Briony looks down at her parchment and draws a little doodle of a flower to the left of the list. “Three sounds good,” she agrees and looks them over. “But how do I pick between art and music?” She sighs as she looks over her list and leans her cheek on her closed fist. “I wish Felicity weren’t so awful. It’s her fault we got into a fight and lost all those points.” It is with a rather heavy sigh as Briony says this, and it is clear that she feels the weight of the lack of points very seriously. “I wish there were something I could do to make the points up. I’ve tried really hard in classes, but I keep getting caught up in Quidditch, and mum says that if I don’t put more work into my studies then I can’t possibly earn enough points to make it up.” Briony frowns at this, moving her quill back and forth from art to music, music to art, over and over.

“Oh, Bri, I didn’t mean…” Kalynn starts, forcing herself to stop and consider how to word what she meant. “I wasn’t blaming you or anything,” she says. “It was just bad luck, bad circumstances, that’s all,” she says, patting Briony on the shoulder. “It’s hard getting points,” she acknowledges with a sigh. “Maybe we need a more direct approach or something. But I don’t know what…” she trails off. Intending to move away from the subject of house points, Kalynn perks up and tilts her head, appraising Briony. “I kind of see you in art more than music, but I’m biased,” she says with a giggle, pointing down to her circled ‘ART’.

“Well, I know, but…” Briony pauses and seems to be doing some sort of picking methodology with her quill. “Well, art sounds easier, since you only have to draw pictures, not practice on some sort of instruments.” Briony finally decides on art, and adds another big check-mark next to it, putting three on her paper. “Okay, now we’re taking all of them together!” She smiles at Kalynn and sets her quill aside, sighing a bit. This seems unusual for the seemingly always boisterous girl to do and it becomes increasingly clear that she is weighed down with thoughts of the points. “I just think there ought to be something I can do to make up the points that we all lost at the start of the year. I hadn’t meant to do that, and when people wouldn’t talk to me for ever so long…” She sighs. “Why isn’t there a club or something where you can earn points?”

“Because then everyone would join it,” Kalynn jokes, closing her eyes and laughing. Upon her next glance to Briony though, Kalynn tilts her head once more to add, “You’re serious, aren’t you? What, do you mean some sort of helping hands club?” The girl shrugs. “I don’t know why there isn’t one. You know, it might be a good idea,” she says, mulling it over shortly. “If the teachers needed something done they could just contact the club. It’s a win-win situation,” Kalynn says happily, stashing her list and quill in her bookbag and stretching.

“Yeah, just like that!” Briony agrees, nodding, the enthusiasm quickly returning to her face. “Well, maybe we could make it more exclusive. Just for Gryffindor or something. That way we could earn points back, and … learn stuff.” Well put, Briony! The gril beams as the two of them come up with the idea. “Why don’t we ask Miss A– I mean, er, Professor Fallon if we can start one. Maybe she could help tell the teachers about us!” Briony bounces and sits forward a bit in her chair. “And we don’t have to do it for points, but maybe the teachers would be willing to give more if we told them we’d do it anyway.” Clearly Briony has listened to the speeches about doing things for no promised reward, even if she is skewing the intent a little.

Nodding, Kalynn agrees with “Okay, well, should we wait until after Astronomy or try to find her sooner? I am always kind of tired after that class,” she says, chewing on her lip a little. “Or, I guess we could talk to her after dinner tonight. Well, either way,” Kalynn concludes, heaving herself to her feet. “Yes, this will be very good. A very good club!” she exclaims with a grin. “I’m going to head off to the library,” Kalynn announces as she begins to walk towards the common room’s exit. “Got to finish the transfiguration essay,” she says a moment before she turns around suddenly, “Or at least start it!” she says, breaking into a jog.

“I’ll go with you. Maybe we can try to go see her after we’re done in the library!” Briony grins as she hops up quickly, shoving her electives parchment into a book and shoving the book into her bag. “It’ll be too late after class anyway. But I’m sure she’ll want us to start right away, so it’ll be better to do it before night anyway.” Briony giggles and slings her bag over her shoulder, putting a bit of parchment around the end of her self-inking quill and sticking said quill back into her hair, much the same way as before, though this time it ends up at a bit of an angle. “Wait for me, Kalynn!” Briony calls, trotting to catch up. Soon the two have disappeared out of the commonroom and down the hall toward the library.

are here.

The afternoon light, well before sunset still, covers the grounds except where it casts shadows through the nearby forest and a shadow-y replicas of Evan and Olivia on the ground beneath them. Evan‘s double is especially active, mirroring his own eagerness, as he emerges from the garden onto the dirt beyond, slowing enough to make sure he doesn’t leave his companion behind. As he pauses, he glances quickly at a slip parchment with a set of his own scratchmarks on it. “This path isn’t..” he murmurs, shrugging once and looking up and around at the dirt path they stand on and nearby fields and trees. “Well, either way, it’s somewhere out here. It definitely looked like this side of the castle.” He turns back to Olivia, perhaps for confirmation, perhaps just to see how ready she is to start poking around.

“Are you — that is, should we be out here?” Olivia comments, crossing her arms over and uncrossing them, her light sweater clutched in one hand rather than being worn. “It’s awfully close to the Forbidden Forest.” She looks a little worried and shifts from foot to foot as she waits for Evan to discover whether they are even in the right area. “Besides, mightn’t they have been mistaken? It could be that… well, perhaps people were making it up.” It seems taht Olivia is grasping at straws for this part, because even she doesn’t seem to believe her own misgivings.

“I don’t see a sign saying otherwise,” Evan answers, clearly not too concerned. “Nor do I recall a rule stating don’t go near the forest – merely don’t go into it.” Of course, given that he doesn’t see an unknown building within the immediate vicinity, and if the rumor about it still standing is true.. but that can be worried about later. “The map wasn’t making it up,” he adds, thrusting his own barely intelligible copy at her. “If I’m right, and what we heard is right, it ought to be just out here somewhere..” Without anything other clear direction, he begins to walk forward again, drawing closer to the forest while, from the way he looks around, expecting to find some clue not actually in it.

“Well, if you say so,” she tells him. “I just don’t want to get into trouble for going so close, and it’s right there.” Pausing several steps back, she straightens out her sweater and slides it onto her arms, biting her lip. The girl hesitates a mment before trotting to catch up with him. Olivia does seem to be a bit nervous, and upon evening up with him in pace, she gingerly slips her hand into his, her cheeks red while she still bites her lip in nervousness, glancing every moment or so over her shoulder. “What’s that there?” she asks, pointing to waht appears to be a clearly worn path, though she pulls her arm back as she seems to realize it is a path that leads directly into the forest.

“We won’t get in trouble. I can’t afford it, and I’ve never let you.” As her hand finds his, he squeezes it gently to offer reassurance. As she points, Evan turns from where he had been looking down off along the tree-line, and nearly opposite of Olivia’s reaction, leans forward to pull back a few branches with his free hand and, looking in, examine the area. A glance back at his scrawling, a glance back at the path.. “Do you see anything else, Olivia? It must be out this direction, and I see no other sign of anything.” Her nervousness does not escape him however, and he peers at the areas off the path in the forest, then out around the grounds and up at the castle. Nothing in there, no one in sight.. the second is double-checked.. and it’s very much daylight still. “What do you think?” Stopping his peering about, he looks right at her. “I won’t let anything happen..”

As Evan tells her this, Olivia takes a deep breath, and then another one. “Alright,” she tells him quietly, smiling up at him, though she does squeeze his hand tightly as she does so. “I think that one goes into the forest, though, it looks to be a bit too obvious to be the one on the map.” She pauses and pulls his map up to look at it. “See, how it goes sideways there. If this were the one it would have to go up, this way.” She runs her fingers along the map, trying to make sense of it to help a bit, though her fears do not melt completely from her face.

Evan Geroff shakes his head, frowning just slightly at the path. “It could turn – and I wasn’t careful about redrawing all the directions, just the general place. So we’d know where to look.” But she’s agreed, so – with another, very careful look around the grounds for observers – he steps toward the forest to begin to lead her along the path. Leaving the map with Olivia, he pulls his wand out with his free hand, just in case, letting it hang from his fingers. Whereever this goes, it’s still the forest, and now he’s got Olivia in his care. “It shouldn’t be too long a path,” he adds, after having been silent a moment. “If it continues too long, we’ll turn back and try elsewhere.”

“Alright,” she agrees, walking closely to him and holding her skirt close to her legs, hoping to keep anything from snagging onto her. “It’s awfully dark,” she whispers and holds on tighter to his hand. “How far do you want to go in before turning back?” she asks, looking down at the map which he has left in her grasp. “I wish we had an exact copy of that map. Then we could be sure we’re on the right path,” Olivia comments, stepping closer to him as she looks down at the path. “Oh, what was that?” she asks, her voice sounding strained as a rustle comes from somewhere ahead of her.

Somehow, Evan‘s aware that announcing ‘it’s a dark wizard’ and running off the path to fight isn’t quite the right answer.. even if he would like to wind up a hero. Instead, he takes the more sensible route, murmuring a charm to light the wand he holds while carefully looking around. When he doesn’t see anything, he stops to listen for a moment, but it seems to have moved on – there are distant sounds, but nothing he, at least, finds immediately threatening. “A bird,” he answers, voice more confident than his lack of knowledge should come up with. “The forest and grounds have probably changed anyway, it was a very old map. It might not have helped much more. We’ll know how far.” Because, if he gives an exact limit, he’ll have to stick to it. He stops again at another sound, and holds his lighted wand off to the side, where it lights up the immediate ground and trees and casts a few extra shadows over the path. “See? Nothing to worry about.” Turning to grin at her, he nevertheless keeps his wand closer to his chest and ready to use as he presses forward, kicking at the plants before his legs.

“Well, alright. Is this what the path was supposed to look like?” she asks kicking a little at a plant that tries to cling to her skirt and she ducks behind him, though still trying to hold onto his hand. “I hope this isn’t the secret that everyone has talked about. These plants are — ick — really rather annoying.” Kicking another one, Olivia tries not to sound too disgusted as she makes her way along. “Oh, is the path widening up there?” she comments, pointing around him, and almost seeming to get just as excited as he is while she does this, though whether she’s excited that there might be less contact with her legs and the plants or because this adventure is exciting to her, it is hard to tell.

“Most likely,” Evan answers. “It’s going the right direction.” Well, obviously he’s never seen it before. Her dislike of the plants brings a quiet chuckle to his lips, and though the noises that made him cautious aren’t forgotten and the wand remains out, it droops again, casting more light on the path underfoot than the surrounding vegitation. “They won’t hurt you. If you see..” whatever ‘unless’ crossed his mind, for surely there are dangerous plants, he neglects to finish the sentance and mention it. His trailing off is instead followed up by, “You do see something? I don’t..” “Wait. Just ahead, up there – it’s.. lighter.” He grins again, and while he doesn’t let go of her hand, if she responds to his first quick step than he’ll continue a rather faster pace.

“Oh, I see it, too,” she tells him and quickens her pace as he does. “Oh, I hope this is it,” she tells him, her free hand still clinging to her skirt as the two of them make their way over to the more open area down toward the end of the trail. It seems to come up very quickly and soon they are right upon it. Olivia pauses as they come up, almost shocked at how green the area is. “Oh, wow… they weren’t joking,” she tells Evan, still stopped for a moment, as if immobilized, before she moves forward again toward the opening before her.

Evan Geroff also slows as the actually reach the clearing, and his caution is more or less forgotten, wand hanging loosely from his, just stiff enough to motion with the light toward the shack and the trees around it. “We found it!” Unfreezing, he pulls forward, running one hand along the bark of a tree, touching the fruit of another, before pausing to unlight the wand and stick it in his pocket, at the same time bending to run his hand over the grass. “Do you think someone else has been coming..?”

“It’s hard to say,” Olivia comments. “There don’t appear to be any worn areas of the grass or anything.” She pauses and then releases Evan’s hand walking over to look at another tree. “It’s much more light here,” she tells him and giggles a bit, reaching up and trying to pull down a bit of fruit. “Look, there’s nothing fallen below the tree!” Olivia looks rather thrilled at the discovery of such a place, looking around quickly, as if she can’t decide where to start looking at all the details this tiny field has to offer.

Evan Geroff, once Olivia lets go of his hand, knows exactly what part interests him. The fruit will provide many nice meals, the grass is curious, but there’s a whole unused building sitting over there.. and who knows what’s in it. “These shouldn’t even be in season just now,” he notes, motioning at a nearby tree before moving off to peek around the side of the shack. But there doesn’t seem to be anything else in the clearing, and he continues to circle until he reaches the door.

Reaching up, Olivia cannot seem to quite reach the fruit that she is getting at, and jumps up, managing to get it after several jumps. As she takes a brave bite of it, she walks over to where Evan is making his way into a shack, and Olivia grins a bit. “It’s like a tiny little house,” she tells him with a giggle, standing on tiptoe to look into it over his shoulder, though she is not quite tall enough to see. “This is wonderful fruit,” she tells him with a full mouth as she munches on another bite. “You should try it.”

“I will,” Evan answers, casting only a brief glance at the item. “I just want to see this.” And having got the door open, he does more than just peer in, taking one careful step into the room before bolding walking to the center of it. With the shadows of the roof, he pulls out his wand to light it again, turning in a slow circle to look at each side of this room, to wind up facing Olivia. “This doesn’t look too disturbed.. We should name it.”

“It’s adorable,” she tells him and follows him in stopping behind him and putting one hand on his back. “A name? Oh, hmmm. What kind of name are you thinking? Like how some people name houses?” The girl peeks around him as she can and tries to see the small cottage. “I wonder what they used this for. It looks like it used to be attatched to the grounds on this map that you drew. Was it like that on the map in the book.” Olivia takes her hand off of his back and turns around, looking out at the area around, walled in by trees, but surprisingly green and light in comparison to the forest taht surrounds it. “I wonder if this is charmed somehow.”

“Houses?” Evan pauses at that, then shakes his head quickly. “Like a hideaway, or a castle or palace.” Nevermind that it’s already part of a castle, completely irrelevant. “It looked like it was connected. I wonder..” “Perhaps it used to be a professor’s home, or they let the prefects or upper years stay in it. They could have kept strange creatures around here, and learned about all sorts of magic they don’t tell us now, an entirely different class where they performed unusual spells and let them wander the forest.”

“Or perhaps it was just where someone lived. Perhaps they used to let married people live here. You know, the ones who get married before they leave school and all that.” The girl giggles as she says this, turning around and looking at it as she takes a few steps back. “We could call it something like… well, how about Plumfield? That’s what house Jo March got after her Aunt died in that book that I was telling you about before.” Olivia seems to say this in all seriousness and comes up to run her fingers down along the side of the door frame. “Or maybe something more whimsical, a bit less… muggle, if you’d prefer.”

Evan Geroff opens his mouth to speak, not quite sure how to respond at first. “Plumfield,” he repeats after a moment, taking his time to think things over and look around the room once more. “We can call it Plumfield,” he finally submits, “as long as it isn’t just a house.” Holding the light up, he motions around, and grins yet again. “I bet it’s a hideaway, and the path is enchanted to be almost impossible to find.. and to fight to keep people out!.. and they used it to, to.. to hide once, when Hogwarts was attached by goblins and trolls, before all the protections on the school.” As long as one willfully ignores historical fact, but that’s not the important thing here. His expression, grin included, becomes teasing and perhaps challenging as he watches for Olivia’s reaction. Expression not changing, he does make one concession.. “I’m sure someone lived here before that, of course.”

“Really? Plumfield?” She replies cheerfully. “Well, alright, it can be more than a house. Plumfield was a school as well as a house anyway.” Olivia giggles as she says this. “Let’s make it just ours, though. Not tell anyone about it.” She giggles as she says this. “It’s a secret, after all, and we found it.” As Evan goes on about all the things that the place could have been for, the girl smiles rather brilliantly — somethng that happens increasingly frequently now that her teeth are straight. “I’m sure it was really exciting even when it was attatched,” she tells him. “I’m sure it can only get more exciting now that it’s secret, and forgotten.”

“Our secret,” Evan agrees readily enough. “Now that we’ve claimed it, the path itself will keep anyone out who we don’t want to come in.” That one, of course, may be stretching things a bit. “Now that the attack is long over, and the place forgotten..” he stops to peer at her, grinning, and waving back outside with the lit wand before starting to walk in that direction. “It’s our stronghold, to fix up and spend time in, and protect as our rightful heritage as intelligent members of this school. For our use.”

“Oh, we should write out its history!” Olivia tells him with a bit of a boisterous laugh, which echoes far above her. “I should have brought my things, and then we could have written out the history of this place to preserve it for whoever discovers it after we leave.” The girl smiles at Evan and tries to push at him, in order to slip inside and look it over. “And maybe we can paint the inside. Make it cheerful. Perhaps a light yellow.” She grins over her shoulder and then strides over to what appears to be a window seat, dusting it off carefully before deciding to take a seat on it.

Evan Geroff pauses on his way out, looking back in consternation as Olivia both moves past to find a seat and mentions painting. “Yellow?” He seems rather unsure of this, stopping in the doorway to wave the light around the walls again. “They don’t look so bad. Peeling in places,” he admits, “and parts of the walls could use patching, we should make sure to do that.” Giving up on going for fruit for the moment, he instead joins Olivia over near the window. “I do agree about writing the history. We ought to leave parchment and quill here, and make note of all important events.” Perhaps two seperate sets, at that – one for the true version, and one for Evan‘s.

“That’s a good idea. Perhaps we could purchase a book of some sort in Hogsmeade. Something nice that we could document the history in that would look well to keep.” She looks thoughtful as she says this, looking around at the room and then glances to the walls moments after Evan has brought them up. “Well, I suppose. But maybe some paint, or wallpaper wouldn’t hurt them any, don’t you think? Mum re-wallpapered the sitting room once, and it looked really lovely after, and it was so nice and new. Well, how abou blue?” Olivia suggests. “Maybe light blue?”

Evan Geroff will consent to the book, at least; she’s not begging for yellow paint. “Something old looking? It ought to look as ancient as the building itself – but actually be in good condition of course, so it doesn’t fall apart when anyone reads it.” He continues to look at the walls, however, a faintly skeptical expression present and gently biting his lip as he considers before speaking again. “I’d try paint before wallpaper, if you don’t think we can make the walls look nice enough. Perhaps on the inside. Blue would work if it wasn’t too light, or perhaps.. a deeper green? Something to fit the surrounding very well.”

“Well, it can’t be too dark, or it will look too dreary in here. After all, light colors make it look prettier when the sun reflects off, and it does look like this would get some sun, even if the forest is right there.” She turns and looks out the window over her shoulder, then turns to look back at Evan. “Perhaps we could get a new one, and charm the cover and the pages to look old after we’ve written its history. Then we needn’t worry about it falling apart because it would only look old. I’ve seen my mum do that to some of our books and things to make them look older.” Olivia pauses after she says this, looking a tad perplexed. “I’m not sure why she did that, though. She always tried to make the furniture look newer. She blew apart a chair once. Dad wasn’t very pleased. They wouldn’t talk to each other for the rest of the day.” Olivia shrugs as she says this and giggles a bit.

“We won’t make it look dready,” Evan agrees quickly with a shake of his head. “Simply appropriate. For a hiding place.” “Perhaps we can both look at colors over the summer, and decide on one when we return next fall.” That seems to satisfy him for now, and he finally takes a seat himself, on the floor below Olivia with his back against the wall. “That would work perfectly.” He can’t help but laugh at Olivia’s description of her parents and the furniture. “I don’t know about enchanting furniture.. but we ought to be able to make a book look appropriately old, to tell about all the exploits this building was once used for.”

“That sounds like it would be fun. Maybe, if my parents let me come visit, we can go searching for all of it and get started. We can’t write unless we’re here, though. Otherwise we won’t be able to — er — well, we won’t get the feeling of it. It won’t be the same.” She nods decisively and turns toward him a little. “It’s really quaint, isn’t it? The fireplace could probably use to be cleaned, though. I wouldn’t want to use it unless it is.” She smiles a bit contentedly, though, bouncing her knees a bit and looking at all the rest of the details. “Constance will have to paint some things for it, to put on the walls. But we can’t tell her what, otherwise the secret will be broken.” Olivia seems very enthralled with the whole idea of this place, and seems to have completely forgotten the trip to the place and how nervous she had been.

Evan Geroff chuckles, leaning his head back to look up at Olivia teasingly. “You can paint us something,” he suggests in return. “We can’t very well demand a painting without telling her why – she’d figure it out eventually. Honestly, I trained her!” He laughs again, quieter this time, and wraps his arms around his knees as he sits, dangling the wand. Who needed anything but the floor lit up anyway? “I wonder whether I could sneak onto the grounds over the summer, to place the book, if we found it – do you think anyone watches the path? It would be waiting for us when we returned, then.” “We can clean out the fireplace before going, though we may have to get materials for other minor repairs, but we could also sweep this up a bit, and make sure there’s been nothing left lying around in the clearing.”

Chuckling as Evan points this out, the girl just shrugs. “You could say it’s for your room, or I could say it’s for my brother. She wouldn’t have to know that we put it somewhere else, would she?” Olivia pauses as she suggests this. “Though, that’s really dishonest.” She pauses in thought. “Well, I guess I could paint things. But then it won’t be like it’s famous artwork for us to cherish.” She shrugs and then smiles at Evan. “I hope we can get here, though I’m not sure if the grounds might be protected from intruders during the summer. Even if we can’t, I’m sure we could get things prepared for it. You know, collect supplies and things. I’m sure it could use some pillows and things to make it more comfortable.” She sighs and looks around, almost as if picturing ways to make their little nook more ‘homey’.

“We’ll keep the famous artwork somewhere more proper than a hideaway,” Evan is obviously not worried about this point, “and we can keep your artwork here until it becomes famous.” “When it does, we’ll open a shop in Hogsmeade for you to sell them, and I’ll sell battle plans alongside it, until we both become rich.” Her next point, he does think about more seriously, before answering. “I don’t believe the charms change; and we’re able to get in now. There shouldn’t be a problem unless a guard is set up..” or a professor happens to be around and catches them. At least they can’t lose points over the summer. “So we should be able to get the book and quill in, and perhaps some paint..” Blink. “Pillows?”

“Well, alright,” Olivia responds, blushing a bit and looking away. “I’ll try to paint some things for it, then. I think Constance’s art would be better for it, at least.” It is with a shrug that she lets this point drop and begins to think about the room itself. “Pillows are good,” she reiterates. “Then we’ll be comfortable. Things to lean on in chairs and thing. You know, right around here.” She waves her hand to the window seat and looks around the room. “It might as well be comfortable.” This is followed by a rather brilliant grin and Olivia shrugs. “Would you rather lean on rocks instead?”

Evan Geroff merely sits and blinks at Olivia for a moment. Well, she has a point, but.. “I can pile some up for you if you like. A few smaller in among the larger rocks, and it will be nice and smooth.” The comment is followed by a grin at Olivia, before he goes on. “If you very much want Constance’s paintings, I wouldn’t object so much to one.. though of course we must leave room for all the necessary supplies we’ll want to stock up with.. but I’ll leave it up to you to claim it from her.” Another grin. “All the girls did seem to like you, after all.”

“I wasn’t serious about the rocks, Evan,” she tells him with a roll of her eyes. “I’d much rather pillows. I like being comfortable.” Olivia sighs as if he has taken her seriously. “Well, I suppose they did. I didn’t do much to merit it, but perhaps it was like getting an extra sister.” She crosses her arms over and one leg over the other, leaning down on her knee gently. “I can’t say I’m adverse to it. They’re much pleasanter than my sisters are.” There is a pause and she corrects herself. “More pleasant, that is.” She shakes her head. “I do hope we can start getting things soon. It’s so nice here, ever so much more than the forest is. I wonder what it’s like in the winter, all white and pristine.”

Evan Geroff studies Olivia for a moment, than gives her a hopeful look. “No lace?” Perhaps they can pick out a few nice, darker colored, woodsy-looking pillows. To that end he adds, “Let’s make sure to look for those together, and the paint and other large decorations. We’ll want them to,” err, “match.” His serious carries through much more earnestly to his next topic. “Merit it? Miss Olivia, you spent time talking with them and playing with them, and paid attention to them, and were overall quite kid. Would you expect them not to like you so well?” “Plus,” he adds, after a thoughtful pause, “you’re important to me, and they’re my family.” For a moment he rises, kneeling to look out the window at what’s visible of the clearing. “It’s funny how the forest just cuts off. We’ll have to be careful of our tracks in the winter; it looks like it’s in the forest, but that might not stop everyone from following.”

The girl cannot help but blush as he says these things, even as he segues quickly to something else, and she almost completely forgets to respond about the lace. There is a moment of silence while she looks away, a bit of a smile crossing her lips and then looks back to him. “No lace, I promise.” She giggles as she says this. “I’ve never owned lace anyway. Mum always says it’s only for weddings and funerals.” A pause. “Though I’m not sure why anyone would want lace at a funeral.” She shrugs and looks out the window, matching Evan’s gaze. “By the time there’s snow out, I’m certain we’ll have the way of things so that we needn’t worry about getting lost coming out here. We’ll have to be careful that none of the teachers think we’re going out into the forest, though. I’d rather not get into trouble for coming here.” Olivia pauses again. “You don’t think we would, do you?”

Evan Geroff chuckles quietly. “Because it’s decorative, and we must have a very decorative send-off for whomever dies, in case they happen to be wandering through the room to see how they’re remembered.” He does seem to relax as she agrees to a lack of lace, though – at least the pillows won’t be as bad as they could be. .. “I’m not terribly worried about us getting lost,” he admits, gaze drifting back in from the window to look at his friend. “More that others will be able to find us by following our footprints. Students or teachers.” “I’m sure we won’t get in trouble. We’ll cover up our tracks first, so they never even see. And it IS on school grounds, not technically IN the forest. Just rather near it on all sides.”

“Well, alright, as long as we don’t get into trouble,” Olivia admits and smiles down at him turning to grin a bit. The grin is wide and actually, for once, free of frets or fears. Looking out the window over her shoulder, Olivia sighs. “The sun has dropped below the trees now,” she comments, indicating the shade that seems to have suddenly permeated the room. “I didn’t expect it would get dark so quickly.” She stands up and puts out her hands to help Evan up off of the floor. “We should get back in. It might be past suppertime already, and we’ll have missed it if we go too long.”

Grasping Olivia’s hands, Evan allows her to help pull him up, sighing quietly as he gives a last glance out the window. “We can always find something,” he notes, dropping only one of her hands as he turns and heads for the door. In what is at least intended to be a particularly criptic voice he adds, “To those who know where to look…” but trails off in a laugh. “And I have to try some of our food on the way out.” He never did grab a piece of fruit earlier, but with the trees all around them, it might be the perfect pre-supper snack to eat while wandering off into the night.

Keeping hold of one of his hands, almost casually for once, Olivia follows him out, taking hold of the one that she had plucked off of the tree and making her way out of the little cottage with him. “I think that would be fun. I haven’t been there since… well, you know.” Olivia giggles and follows Evan out shrugging her shoulders a bit. “I should hope they’d be as happy to see us as they were last time.” She grins at him and then hesitates as they make their way toward the path, pausing. It seems a moment before she plucks up her courage again and then, using her free hand to pull her skirt close to her legs, makes her way out of the little clearing, bound toward the school.

“Come on, Joseph, it’s best we start studying soon,” Noémie calls from where she stands, already inside the Prefects’ Study. “Don’t want anyone else to take it, after all.” The girl sounds perhaps a bit too cheerful than one usually might when speaking of studies. Setting her bag down, she even goes so far as to open a book on the table, and rummage through her bag, presumably for her quill and parchment, though her eyes glance to the door every few moments in anticipation and perhaps the slightest bit of impatience while she goes through the motions of setting up a study area.

If study was what Joseph had on his mind, it wasn’t of the textbook variety; however, he obediently enters the Prefect’s Study, running the fingers of one hand through his hair, while munching on a chocolate bar held in the other hand. Regardless of context, somehow he always manages to get his hands on a chocolate bar. Eying Noémie for a moment, he seems tempted to do or say something for a moment, before eventually shrugging and seating himself down almost daintily, crossing his legs and smiling at the girl. “What are we after, then? Charms? Transfiguration? History of Magic?” His tone indicates that each item is more entrancing and exciting than the last, a dramatic note bordering on mockery.

Resisting the urge very strongly to roll her eyes at him, Noémie walks over and closes the door behind him. She pulls out her wand and on top of locking the door with a quiet click, she utters a charm to keep it so, in hopes of deterring any others from trying to enter the study. “I had my mind more on… well…” Turning around, she runs her hand along his back and then rises on her tiptoes, brushing her lips on his. “Nice and cozy, just like last time.” She giggles a little bit and walks carefully backwards toward the nearby couch, a shorter one than the types that are found in the Commonroom itself.

Now, this is more the study that Joseph was hoping for. Joining her on the couch, swallowing down the rest of his chocolate with a broad grin, he keeps his hands entirely to himself for a moment, though he watches her, waiting for a cue. After all, it would simply be bad manners to do anything too soon. “I can handle nice and cozy.” He offers, reaching out to take her hand – just her hand, nothing else for the moemnt. “It’s a pity we can’t get tested on that for our OWLs. I’d be guaranteed an O.”

“Sure you would,” The girl says in response, grinning as she situates herself on the couch, looking at him from the spot next to him for a moment. It is but a moment longer before she finally decides to instead crawl into his lap, leaning against the arm of the couch and grinning at him. “So, where were we again?” Noémie stifles a giggle as she says this, and it is clear that she feels slightly silly putting off what their purpose was for holing up in here. She leans in and kisses his lips gently, creating almost a prelude of affection rather than starting in full force as the two are sometimes wont to do.

Kissing her back eagerly, it seems that Joseph isn’t as interested in a gentle prelude as she is; while he doesn’t force anything too much, he does pull her closer, his kiss firm and eager but not ferocious. When he breaks the kiss again, it is only to smile at her, rubbing her back with his hands gently, and to whisper, “This seems like a good starting point.” He does not kiss her again immediately, despite the obvious temptation to do so, instead raising a hand and brushing aside a stray lock of her hair, studying her face for a moment with a strangely intense expression.

“Mmmm,” is all the girl says in response as she leans forward and follows his lips, even as they part. As he brushes some of her hair out of the way, however, she leans back and grins at him, her eyes fixed on his as her lips twist into a bit of an impish smirk. She raises a hand and runs it over his cheek and then trails a finger down the side of his neck. She reaches out and twirls a bit of his hair around her finger and grins. “You still need a haircut.” A smirk follows this and she nestles down against the arm of the couch to get herself completely comfortable. After all, Noémie has no plans to go anywhere any time soon — might as well be cozy while she’s here.

“I still hold that I don’t.” Joseph replies, smiling at her and, as she nestles more into her little corner of the lounge, twists his body slightly so he can lean over her and kiss her again – only gently and briefly, now, for he then offers, “I would have to go to all sorts of effort to get my hair cut when it’s just fine the way it is.” Sure, he’s not the sort of person who really suits hair of this length, so it just looks scrappy rather than stylish, but he’s trying. And with that, he kisses her again, a little more forcefully, just as eagerly, though now one of his hands drifts down and rests on her thigh, the other rested on the couch behind her shoulder.

The urge to respond to his claims melts away as he kisses her and she sighs a bit, sliding her arms up around his neck. “Now, thachsh whut mm talkin’ ’bout,” she says with her lips still pressed against his. She inches her knees up and slides a bit, leaning her head upward as she does and kissing him back, more fervently than his own kiss came. One hand reaches down to guide his hand up her waist rather than resting on her thigh. Is this a hint? Well, Noémie‘s not telling, though this could be because her lips and mouth are presently occupied.

Though perhaps having shown a past tendency towards not taking hints very well, in the privacy of the Prefect’s Study, being faced with that kind of hint… Joseph‘s hand inches up her ribcage slowly, at first, his fingers at first only tentatively brushing against her breast, but he then inches up a little further, cupping her breast in his hand (and finally doing what he has been only hinting at for weeks). All the while, he reciprocates the fervent kissing, though perhaps he still suffers from the slight problem of saliva overproduction.

If Noémie shows signs of minding the overproduction of saliva, she doesn’t say a word, instead, turning ever so slightly into his hand as she puts her arm around him again. Her fingers trail up his neck and wind into his hair as she sighs quietly into him, her other hand coming to rest on his cheek in between them. Her joy at finally having coaxed him into taking the hint is shown in how ambitiously she starts kissing him now, even letting her tongue escape as she runs her fingernails down the back of his neck.

The arm rested on the back of the couch slips down to rest on the back of the prefect’s head, Joseph‘s fingers entwining through her hair as he presses about every inch of his body that he can manage against hers, her tongue matched with his own. Though perhaps handling her a little more roughly than is necessary – it is attached to her, Joseph, it’s not a stressball – he shows no interest in stopping any time soon. Eventually, though, he does have to partially unentangle himself from her, his neck probably not being at the best angle, and air being a good idea at times, and, while only a brief recess, he tilts his head back and watches her silently for a moment, as if expecting her to say something first.

“Not quite so hard,” she whispers, adjusting herself underneath him comfortably, letting one leg reach down and putting a foot on the floor. She licks her lips and grins up at him while she runs her fingers over his cheek. “Not quite so hard,” she reiterates and leans up to press her lips against his again. She scoots up a bit, letting her knee lay flat on the couch as she sits more half-up now, running her hand over his arms and shoulders with a silent sigh — though a happy one — as she leans back and looks back at him silently. These staring contests happen frequently, and while Noémie never knows what to say during them, she doesn’t appear to be telling him to stop.

It is probably quite awkward, just sitting and staring at her, but Joseph doesn’t seem to have much better to do – except, of course, to lean forward and kiss her again, only briefly, massaging her breast with the palm of his hand rather more gently than before. Which he, having realised the awkwardness of just staring at her, does. “More like this?” He asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper in volume, before leaning forward and kissing her again, the force rather akin to what it was before, his other hand circling around her and resting on her backside.

“Little bit,” she tells him quietly and reaches one hand down, resting it atop his hand and trying to meld it gently. “More like that.” Noémie says nothing else, instead returning her hand to his neck, trying to guide his face back to hers as she snakes her tongue out sneakily running a hand down his back to rest in the middle of his back as she grabs onto his bottom lip gently with her teeth, though with no intent to hurt him as she does so. It is just a moment before she releases it and instead continues kissing him rather passionately while still trying to get pleasure out of his as yet rather unskilled molestation.

As much as it seemed like a perfectly good idea at the time to ask for advice on feeling up a woman, Joseph‘s cheeks flush pink as he realises exactly how foolish he probably sounded – he is thoroughly distracted from his momentary shame, however, as she kisses him again, and he doesn’t waste any time in renewing his passion from before, kissing her firmly and pulling her closer again, his tongue brushing against hers eagerly. And, indeed, all the while, he endeavors as best he can to follow her advice about the molestation; at least he is improving, even if he still has a long way to go, in that regard. After a moment, he leans back from her again, only just far enough to break the kiss, his lips still within two inches of hers, murmuring, “I’m sorry, your shirt just isn’t co-perating.” Wow. Subtle.

Pausing as Joseph breaks the kiss off, Noémie looks at him almost blankly, her eyes half-lidded. “Well, we could fix that,” she comments quietly, though it appears to make her perhaps a little apprehensive. This, of course, is normal, given that the girl has never bared anything under her clothes to anyone before. She does, however, reach in and begin to unbutton the shirt that she has on, looking at Joseph momentarily, and then glancing down as she begins to slowly undo the buttons one by one, prolonging the action, also, by reaching up and undoing the buttons on the wrists of her shirt as well. “Do you want to do it?” she asks him, gesturing to the remaining buttons of her shirt, of which there are still quite a few. She looks back up at him, laying back completely, her head resting on the armrest of the couch while her gaze watches him tentatively.

Though his hands shake a little bit as he reaches out for the remaining buttons – sure, he’s a bit of a cad, but it’s not every day that a girl Joseph is attracted to actually invites him to help remove her shirt – and he briefly fumbles with each button, he manages to get them undone with relative ease. After the first one he undoes, he leans forward over her again, brushing his lips against hers, lightly at first, then more passionately. Sure, this means that he doesn’t get as much of an eyeful, but it is on some level much more romantic than just staring at her increasingly bare body. He does have some standards, after all. As he gets to the final few buttons, one hand slips inside her shirt, rubbing against the bare skin on her back as he one-handedly finishes the final few and raising his other hand to push the shirt from her shoulders.

The cool air sweeps over her skin as her shirt is pushed away, and Noémie hunches up her shoulders, helping him remove her shirt by pulling her arm out of one sleeve, though the other is more difficult as it is wrapped quite comfortably around him on the inside bit of the couch. Her breathing is a bit staggered as she looks up at him, trembling almost as much as his hands had been while he undid her shirt, though as he leans down and kisses her, she does calm a bit. As her arm and front are freed from the confines of the shirt, she leans back again and relaxes her shoulders, taking a deep breath and then leaning up to kiss him again, very fervently.

As long as the majority of her shirt is out of the way, Joseph doesn’t appear to really mind that one arm is still rather caught up in it, and he kisses her firmly, one hand stroking her now bare back, and the other raising to fondle her again – the other breast, this time. After all, the reason for getting her to remove her shirt was obviously so she would get more pleasure out of being groped, as her shirt was being uncooperative, and not really for such noble reasons that were certainly not more at the front of his mind, such as ‘I wonder if I can get her to take it off if I ask’. Inching back again to offer the quiet whisper, “You’re beautiful, and I love you,” (and getting a quick look at her unshirted body, because it would be silly not to get at least one look in), this is all he offers before he leans forward again and resumes the passionate kissing.

“I love you, too,” Noémie whispers, and while it never occurs to her that she is not the one to say it first, she does reciprocate happily as his lips return to hers. Her breathing is still rather erratic. The prefect doesn’t appear to be bothered by this, though, as she slips her arms around his neck loosely, sighing a bit into their kiss and picking the leg that has until now been on the floor, the girl lets her other leg rest on the armrest at the other end of the couch while she wraps her fingers into the hair on he back of his head while she again starts to almost assault his mouth with her tongue, if it can actually be called such.

To his credit, it seems that Joseph is a little less clumsy with this hand than the other, so it is possibly slightly more enjoyable for the prefect (either that, or the shirt actually affected it in some way), now. His own tongue brushes against hers as he kisses her back with equal passion, the hand on her back running down her back, then further down until it is rested on her leg, his fingertips just under the hem of her skirt, but not again moving any higher, just resting there for now.

Slowly but surely, Noémie coaxes the other sleeve off of her arm — it is a curious feeling, after all, having only one sleeve on — and tosses it haphazardly to the floor. She returns to wrap the arm back around Joseph, and is that the slightest moan as she relaxes again. Yes, he is better with this hand than the other. A sigh slips out and though she is startled by his other hand’s presence on her leg, for the moment, she does nothing, just leans up to continue kissing him with a force and passion heretofore unequalled in their ‘sessions’. One thing is for certain: Noémie is likely to call this her most successful study time to date as she arches up toward him and lifts her head off of the rest of the couch, though she doesn’t do this for long, as it is awkward and puts an unusual strain on her abdomen.

There’s something about being shirtless and thoroughly felt up in a much more comfortable yet still private area of the castle than their usual liaisons that lends extra passion to their intimacy, indeed. For his part, Joseph is much less tentative about his actions, the hand on her leg slipping a few inches up her skirt – perhaps an indicator of where this could very well be heading without actually doing anything – the other hand finishing its ministrations to her breast for a moment, just long enough to push at her camisole, perhaps trying to get it out of the way completely. As for his kisses, he is quite willing to match force for force and passion for passion. Ah. If only ‘inappropriate liaisons with prefects’ was something you could be graded on for your OWLs.

The prefect appears to be quite enjoying herself for the time being, and though she says nothing while his hand slides up her leg ever so slightly, she does protest as his hand starts to go up her undershirt. “No,” she whispers throatily. “Not yet,” she says, having slid her arm under and pushes him away from her face by his shoulder with one hand. While stopping him oughtn’t have stopped things entirely, it appears to have ruined the moment for Noémie and she lays limply on the couch now, just looking up at him with blank eyes. Yes, the moment is lost and She swats his hand away from under her skirt as she sighs and starts to sit up. As she reaches for her shirt which she has only barely tossed out of reach, she nearly falls off of the couch, glancing back at him with another sigh, this one a bit more frustrated, almost as if she is chiding herself about the situation at hand.

Sitting upright, looking more than a little bit annoyed at how the situation has turned out, Joseph folds his arms across his chest with a heavy sigh. “Okay, okay.” He offers, his tone tinged with his annoyance. “Too much, too soon. I get it.” His expression and tone don’t really look like he gets it, though, and after a moment, he adds, “We didn’t have to stop, you know.” Even so, perhaps because of his annoyance, perhaps because he accepts that she was more or less right, he stands up, smoothing down his own clothing (all of which managed to completely stay on, which says everything), watching her almost fall off the couch without offering so much as a hand to help her.

“Moment’s gone, and don’t you look at me like that. I’ve every right to want to stop.” She shakes her head, and her cheeks being very red seem to demonstrate that the girl is clearly embarrassed at how this has turned out. She manages to completely fall off the couch and an ‘OW!’ echoes above her as she lays down on the floor, rubbing her shoulder. “Will you please get off my leg?” she asks, her skirt in a bit of a shambles, revealing her underwear, despite her attempts to keep her legs quite shut. Noémie is able to reach her shirt from here, however, and uses it to cover herself while she waits for him to comply with her wish.

Sighing heavily again and moving out of the way as directed, whether Joseph agrees with Noémie is entirely uncertain, for while he looks entirely annoyed by it, he doesn’t push the issue too much and, indeed, turning his back on the girl politely so she can get herself together again without catching another eyeful. “Yes, yes, I know. It’s fair enough.” Then, clearing his throat audibly, he adds, “I suppose I’d better be leaving, then. You know. Study to do. OWLs to think about.” Without so much as another look to her, or another word, he edges his way around to the exit and leaves.

Glaring as he says the bit about OWLs, she sits up and then quickly stands, darting behind the door before anyone can see her mussed up. She quickly buttons her shirt, though as she goes, her hands shake more with anger and she soon finds it difficult to get them all done. She does manage to finish, but not before noticing that she’s buttoned wrong. Yes, Noémie will be having words with him after this. She does get her sleeves buttoned and walks over to the table to slam her book shut and shove everything into her bag. Without another word, she throws it over her shoulder and stomps out of the Prefects Study and runs over to the stairs up to the girls’ dorms, trotting up the stairs quickly without a single comment to anyone.

The sign on the door has been turned to ‘closed’, and Eva stands at the counter, looking rather awkward as she scribbles things down in the ledgerbook. Hearing a loud bang in the back room, she hardly looks up, though she does shake her head. “Don’t be in such a hurry!” she calls to her cousin and tuts while she seems to be doing some ledgers. “Slow day,” she comments to the same person in the back room. It is but a moment before the person contributing to the mysterious noise appears, looking quite dolled up. “Well, where are you going?” Eva asks, quirking her head. “Looking quite gorgeous, I might add.” The blonde grins. “I’m going out. That man came back and asked me to meet him tonight in Hogsmeade, so I’ll be apparating there in a moment. That is, if you don’t mind me leaving a little early.” It is with a sigh that Eva leans back on a stool that is nearby. “Of course I don’t mind, Maura. I only wish I could go with you. I’ve got to go home and help Tommy, though. The kids have been a real handful lately.” The woman shakes her head and bids Maura farewell just in time to see the other woman apparate out. Eva sighs a little louder than is absolutely necessary and begins whistling to herself as she stands again and starts working on the ledgerbook again.

Despite the fact that the sun is still relatively high in the sky –the summer is drawing close, after all– the shops in Diagon Alley are progressively closing and people are hurrying to finish their last bits of shopping. It is also the end of the day for many Ministry workers, and even if Logan Wexler is used to staying later than the official hours at his office, he has decided today to leave the Ministry building on the official time of closing. He turns left and walks down Diagon Alley, avoiding a few kids playing with a ball –it looked to be enchanted, a bit like a Bludger, but is fortunately not made of iron like the real thing– and finally stops in front of the candy shop that belongs to his younger sister. The doorbell tingles as he opens the door, ignoring the “Closed” sign, and he steps into the shop. “Hello!” he says, immediately locating Eva at the counter, and he walks towards her with a smile. “How is it going? I haven’t been here for a long time…”

“I’m sorry we’re — Oh, Logan! Hello!” She chuckles as she notices that it is, in fact, her brother, and not some tardy child or parent stopping in and hoping to get some last minute sweets. “So nice to see you. I’m sure you haven’t seen the shop since we redecorated.” Eva quickly scribbles something down on her ledger book and closes it up, storing it safely away and drawing her wand to secure the book and till away until the morning. “What brings you here so early, Logan? Aren’t you usually stopped up at work all hours of the night?” Eva grins at him and stands up, undoing her blue and purple apron from her front and hanging it haphazardly on a hook nearby. The thing looks as if it could fall at any moment from how hastily it is put up. “Or have you some ulterior motives for being here. Sweets for an as yet unnamed sweetheart, perhaps?” Eva winks as she says this.

Logan Wexler grins in return at his sister as she greets him and shakes his head. “No… I think I missed that, though I promised I’d come to see the new decoration and… well, here I am.” he says, looking around to try to see the changes. He could notice a difference, yes, though he is ashamed to realize that he is totally unable to tell what it was. Making a mental note to come and see Eva more often, he nods and sighs. “But yes… work has been hard on me as of lately. After that scandal and that trial… well… you probably heard that the Ministry was sort of reorganized” –Logan makes quotation mark in the air with his hands here– “especially at the higher levels. And the new people in charge insist on having extensive reports on what happened at the Ministry since, well, since a very long time… You know how it is…” And indeed, even if he pretends otherwise, Logan‘s voice betrays the fact he is more tired than usual, even if paperwork is perhaps not the only reason behind that. “And I’m afraid that doesn’t leave me time for a sweatheart…” Logan sighs even deeper at that, his eyes looking at the floor, as if he were ashamed to admit this aloud. Suddenly looking up again at Eva, he says, in a tone he wants to sound happier: “Anyway, I decided to take a break today and leave earlier. It’s good to see you, really.” he says, resuming his look at the counter and the various jars of candies. “So, what’s the latest candy you must absolutely know about if you don’t want to look like an idiot?” he asks jokingly.

“The truffles, of course,” Eva answers quickly with a grin, the mischeivous demeanor of her youth returning to her as her brother is in the room, though her very pregnant belly seems to marr this image a bit. “And, Logan, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times, you ought to make time for a sweetheart. It’s not healthy to stay holed up and alone the way you do. I mean, I’m busy with work as well, and I’ve managed to have time for a husband, and look, even five children! Of course, I don’t think mum’s wanting for grandchildren now that I’ve got so many, and so does Basil, so you needn’t worry about that. But, really, you work far too much, Logan. Just tell them you can’t every now and again and get out there and find someone. I can get you in touch with Arnauld Ribouet, if you like. He’s got some connections at the Hog’s Head that might at least get you some company for a while.” Eva leans against the counter on the outside and straightens out the sleeves of her dress, which is quite a bit more modest than the woman wears in her non-pregnant times.

“Truffles…” Logan answers, nodding. “Is it those which are in that jar?” he asks, pointing to that jar which has struck his eye when he first looked over at the content of the shelves. “I might take some of them, then… just to try.” he says, sighing another time. “You know, I think you’re right. I should work a bit less and come and see you more often. Or you people may think we’re not related anymore…” Logan says, trying to laugh at what he just said, but failing miserably. There comes a moment of awkward silence, before Logan begins to talk again. “Er… the Hog’s Head?” he replies awkwardly, and beginning to blush. “Do you really think that I could, er, meet someone there? Honestly…” Logan seems nearly shocked by Eva’s words. “Anyway… forget it. I… well, I probably need to work a bit less, for starters. Yes, that might be good.” Logan‘s head drops and he is pensive once again. “When is the baby due, exactly?” he finally blurts out, kicking himself mentally for having to ask a question he should already have known the answer… if only he came more often to visit.

“Oh, stop being a ninny,” Eva chides, shaking her head as she strides behind the counter to procure a box. “It’s these here. These are orange flavored ones. Maura made them just yesterday.” The woman opens the box and holds it out to him. “Anyway, as I was saying, stop being a ninny. The Hog’s Head is a perfectly respectable place, and it would be a start, if nothing else. You act like a child when it comes to women.” Eva shakes her head ruefully. “One would think I were the older of us, if it came down to that.” She laughs light-heartedly as sh epoints this out. “The baby’s due anytime now. Probably late May or early June, I’d wager.” She grins at him and shrugs. Pregnancy doesn’t affect Eva quite so strongly anymore as it might most women. “It’s going to be a boy; I feel certain.” She nods as she says this and then sighs. “You really do need to get out more, Logan. I’m sure Basil would love to see you, being as he’s not working at the Prophet anymore. I imagine he’s going stir-crazy already.”

Logan Wexler nods, not really knowing how to react. “A ninny, eh.” Logan replies. Usually, he would laugh at such words and pretend not to take them seriously, but Logan is forced to admit that there are, at least, some gains of truth in them. “Perhaps, after all.” he finally says. “On the other hand, well…” Logan says, stopping his sentence as he looks for something to say for his defense. “Well, just going to the Hog’s Head is not really something I feel comfortable about…” he finally says, shaking his head, and turning silent again. “I think, yes… I think I might pay a visit to Basil one day, between two interventions in the field. That’s nice of him to have left his job just to help with the kids, at any rate… I don’t know many husbands who would have done that, but I guess he won’t be bored for long… the end of May is coming soon, right? And knowing you, I suppose everything is already taken care of concerning the shop, when the birth is going to occur, isn’t it?”

“Oh, it’s all set up so that Maura can keep an eye on the shop. I won’t be gone for long, anyway. A few weeks at the most. “Eva chuckles as she says this, walking behind the counter to get her coat, which for now, really is a thin overcoat, mostly for convention’s sake, and the occasionally cool evening. She slips it on over her arms and carefully buttons it down — it appears to be made specifically to expand as her pregnant belly does. “Go to the Leaky Cauldron, then, or perhaps one of the ice cream shoppes, but you’ve got to meet someone, Logan, or else Kalika and I will start conniving to find someone for you again.” Eva shakes her finger at him from across the shop and grins. “Sibyl’s helping him get used to the idea, I imagine. It’s only fair that it’s his turn now, after all he expected her to stop practicing when Briony was born. He’d better be glad that she didn’t leave him over that. I’d have done that.” She pauses. “Then again, I wouldn’t have been with anyone who’s a stick-in-the-mud like Basil is.” It is with a shrug that she says this and makes her way out from behind the counter.

“I’ll try to think about that.” Logan says, nodding at the advice Eva gave him about dating, and there is a note of finality in his voice. Logan then smiles, and goes on. “And oh, that’s good… About the shop, I mean. You needn’t more worry, after all, a new kid is already enough.” Logan realizes at this moment that he has yet to look into the box of Truffles, since Eva has brought it on the counter. He takes the box in his hands and examines it. “Hmm… These are tempting, you know… I’m going to take a few, if you don’t mind selling me a few after the opening hours, that is.” he says, with a wink, before jumping back at the previous topic of conversation. “I suppose you’re right… about Basil, you mean. But still, I can tell you not many men would have done that. I’m only telling you about what I see around me, you see. Co-workers at the Ministry, things like that. On the other hand, they have not Sibyl as a wife, so I can’t really compare…” he says, chuckling lightly.

“Times have changed since men were the only ones to go to work, and women were in the home. Anymore, the only women who need stay home are the ones who want to. And, don’t tell mum I said this, she’d be horrified, but I do believe that things will change to the point were the women are the primary breadwinners. It will happen, you’ll see.” Eva grins as she states this, and it is clear that she has found politics from someone else other than her own parents. “At any rate, just take them. You can pay me back later, when the tills and books aren’t all finalized for the day. I’ve secured them away for the day.” She starts walking toward the doorway. “You can join Tommy and me for dinner, if you want, unless you’ve got plans with someone you aren’t telling me about, at which point, you’d best be off to meet that special someone. You must get out more, though, Logan. I mean it.” She reaches the door with a pause as she says this and turns to wait for him to join her.

Logan Wexler nods. “Well, I’m going to take you up on that and take a handful of those candies. I can’t wait to taste them.” Logan says, smiling like a child. “I’ll come back tomorrow during my midday pause. If you don’t mind, that is.” Logan then stays silent for a while, pondering Eva’s proposal for dinner. He is tempted to accept, that would indeed give him some much needed distraction, but he fears also that the discussion might turn around his own inability to date anybody –this wouldn’t be the first time. He could pretend having something to do tonight, but that would be a lie… something Logan isn’t comfortable about, either. Finally, he nods, and answers in a low voice: “I’d like to join you for dinner, yes. I haven’t seen Thomas for a while, either.” The way he says this is probably enough to betray his internal debate.

Stifling back a bit of a snicker as Logan calls him ‘Thomas’, Eva smiles and nods. “Let’s go then. I’m sure he’s waiting for us.” She doesn’t correct him — after all, it is his name — and instead walks out the door and makes to lock it after Logan, too, has exited. “I usually apparate, so I’ll see you there in just a moment then?” She doesn’t wait for his answer, instead apparating out with a muffled CRACK!, and with that, she is gone, presumably to her home in order to get settled in for the evening and the supper she has promised to share with her older brother.

Logan Wexler nods at his sister, not reacting at her snicker but registering nonetheless. Ah, well. That is probably a brother thing. He watches Eva closing the shop and casting the usual charms cast on the door to ward it against burglars. “Well, I’ll follow you, don’t worry about that.” he adds, just before Eva apparates. Within a couple of seconds, Logan follows suit and disappears with a CRACK! of his own.

Three white roses, tied together with a curled mauve ribbon, are delivered in the talons of a large owl. More importantly, perhaps, than the owl responsible for taking the gift from A to B, however, is the gift itself; the roses are in near perfect condition and are not yet wilting, and although there are many thorns on the stems, they seem unnaturally blunt. Attached to the mauve ribbon is a shimmering, pearlescent card, gilt-edged, bearing the message in black calligraphy: “Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all; What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call; All mine was thine before thou hadst this more.” Then, a line break, and the words, “I love you, weeping willow tree. Meet me by the Lake Shore at 5:30 this evening. Joseph Wexler.”

Holding the roses and the note in her hand, Noémie makes her way out to the lake shore, her face set rather seriously than is normal for the prefect. The girl has recently served her detention with the Head Boy, as well as having a rather haphazard meeting with Professor Dwight. Her face no longer sports the red nose and eyes that she has been seen with over the last while, but she does not look entirely pleased. She crosses her arms and leans against a nearby tree as she sighs, looking about for Joseph.

Unfortunately, as romantic as he can be at times, there are certain things that Joseph has only a limited concept of – including, at this point, being on time, and he jogs down to the shore only after Noémie has arrived, breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath again. “I’m, I’m sorry I’m late, Noémie…” He offers as he approaches her, cheeks flushed hotly pink. “I meant for this to be a romantic interlude, to make it up to you… I’m sorry, Noémie. I’m really sorry. For everything.” So it’s not quite the apology she was probably looking for, or the apology that he was originally intending to give, but it’s something.

“It’s alright,” Noémie tells him, though she doesn’t look entirely redeeming as she says this, and doesn’t move to greet him as she usually would. “Why do you say things like that, though? It hurts people, and not even just me.” She looks up at him from where she is leaning against the tree, and then looks back down at the roses he has given to her, running her fingers along the petals with a sigh so quiet, it’s as if she doesn’t want him to hear it. After a long moment, she does finally look back up at him, her face almost entirely blank.

Shrugging his shoulders vaguely, his cheeks still flushed scarlet, Joseph is silent for a long moment. “Because I’m a bit stupid, I guess.” He finally concedes. He doesn’t seem to dare to look her in the eye as he says this, standing awkwardly and shuffling his feet – either that, or he finds her body a much better listener than her ears. “I’m sorry, this isn’t how I pictured apologising to you for it. I sort of imagined that I’d be on time… and that I’d have someting memorised to recite to you, to make you forget my stupidity…”

“You don’t always have to recite things to me,” Noémie comments, looking directly at him, seemingly unaware for the moment that he doesn’t seem to be paying attention to her face, rather, to her other anatomy. “Just saying you’re sorry is fine,” she responds with a shrug, watching is face for a moment and then turning her face to wrap the ribbon around her finger. “For what it’s worth…” A pause. “I’ve missed you.” She doesn’t look up as she says this, and her cheek pinken a bit while she continues to fiddle with the ribbon.

“I…” Uncertain of what to say, Joseph begins speaking, then tapers off into silence again, kicking at the ground with one foot. Finally, he sighs, running one hand through his slightly too-long hair, and looks down at the pebbles on the ground. “I’ve missed you too, Noémie. Not just, you know, you,” he begins to make a suggestive gesture in midair, then stops, returning his hands to his sides self-consciously, “but you. Your smile, your voice, your intellect… I didn’t mean to offend you at all. Even Su – no.” Cutting himself off before he puts his foot in it again, he bites at his lower lip, thinking of what else to say instead. “I’ve been a giant prat, Noémie. I don’t deserve you. But, you know, I’d really like to… I’d really like you to take me back…”

“Take you back?” Noémie looks up at him and looks genuinely perplexed. “But — I — er, well, I didn’t think we were… broken up?” Her eyes go wide as she looks directly at him, her cheeks being even more pink as she says this. “Well, I mean, that is… I didn’t think that we’d — I mean, I just assumed we’d patch it up.” She stands up from the tree, crossing one leg over the other and dropping her hands down, putting the roses and her hands behind her back. Her gaze stays on her boyfriend as she says this, looking quite concerned.

For a moment, Joseph both says and does nothing, just staring at Noémie in stunned silence. Finally, he manages to open his mouth to speak, but no words escape, and he closes it again. This occurs a few more times, giving him the appearance of a stunned fish, before he finally speaks again. “Er.” Okay, so it’s not exactly witty repartee. Another pause, and he finally manages to find some words. “That’s… good. Um. Good.” He is totally unprepared for this situation, evidently. “…Good.”

“Good,” she replies and shuffes one of her feet, looking down at the ground for a moment. It seems a prolonged while before she finally looks up, then looks around. The sun is setting, and the two of them are just standing there looking at one another awkwardy. It seems as if Noémie might just walk away as she turns a bit, but then, her reaction is to drop the flowers to the ground and reach up, nearly throwing herself at him and tossing her arms around his neck as she tries to press her lips to his.

Though his first instinct, Joseph being the gentleman that he is, is to recoil from the sudden experience of having a girl in his arms, and on his lips, he rectifies this situation and kisses her back, with a certain extra eagerness born of the fact that, well, he hasn’t been able to for days. His arms snake around her waist, holding her as close to his body as he feasibly can, as he ensures that she is thoroughly reminded of what she has been missing for the past few days. To his credit, at least, there is somewhat less saliva than before. After a little while, satisfied that she is thoroughly reminded, and they are thoroughly made up, he breaks the kiss, smiling at her and raising one hand to brush at her hair, gesturing at the same time to the dropped roses. “Take care of those. They’re magically enhanced, so they’ll last long than normal roses. Still not forever, but notably longer than usual.”

“I’ll get them in a minute,” she tells him, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Unless you’d rather I go put them in a safer place right away…” She trails off as she says this, leaning against him on her tiptoes with a bit of a sigh. For several moments, she doesn’t say anything, just leaning against him. “Let’s never be mad at each other again,” she whispers quietly. Noémie‘s face is set as she quietly emits this, as if she truly believes that saying this will in the future prevent it from happening.

Holding her close in his arms, one hand stroking her hair as the other rests on the small of her back, Joseph is quiet for a long moment – not so much out of hesitation, but because there is nothing, for a while, that really needs to be said. Then, finally – perhaps feeling awkward about the lengthy silence, perhaps only just now thinking of something to say – he offers, his voice only just pitched above a whisper, “I promise I’ll never be mad at you again, if you promise not to get mad at me. Leave the roses for now.” Another, much shorter, moment of silence and he adds, “I do love you, Noémie.” Content that this is all that needs saying, at least until she offers some sort of cue to play off in response, he resumes his silence, still stroking her hair with one hand, though now he also turns his head and kisses her head as it rests on his shoulder, too.

“I promise I won’t,” Noémie tells him, raising her head up from his shoulder and sliding her arms down to circle around his torso. “I love you, too,” she whispers, a smile spreading over her face as she looks up and pushes his hair out of his face, though it doesn’t really need it much — for the moment. “You need a haircut,” she tells him, her voice little more than a whisper as she grins, an arm still snug around him, pulling the two of them comfortably together.

Making a bit of an odd face at the prefect, Joseph seems less than enamoured with the idea of a haircut. “I do not.” He protests, though it is only a token remark, his voice lowered to a whisper to match her tone, and to account for the limited distance between them. A moment later, he shrugs lightly, conceding, “Alright, maybe I could use a haircut. But I can’t be bothered actually getting one.” Obviously, this is the height of logic for him. However, he doesn’t reflect on this point for long, smiling and leaning forward, kissing her again. Much better.

“Well, you–” Noémie starts, but her speech is cut off as his lips close over hers. She doesn’t seem to mind this much, though, and she slides her free hand up on his neck again, using the other to pull them closer together. A sigh slips out of her as the two of them come together, face to face and it stands to wonder whether she even remembers what she was previously mad about. Her hand snakes up and intertwines with the hair at the back of his neck as she continues her ministrations, eagerly forgetting her worries in the kiss. OWLs? Studies? What are those?

As tentative as the kiss is at first, Joseph doesn’t seem to remotely mind as she reacts eagerly, and he is all the more passionate and fervent as she encourages him. After all, he has a lot of time to catch up on, here. And if making up on lost time with her involves making out with her, all the better for him. It is with a certain degree of reluctance, for this reason, that he finally parts from her again, both hands rested on her back and rubbing at her back gently for a moment, just watching her intensely in silence for a moment before finally speaking. “I’m sorry, were you saying something?”

The girl shakes her head and grins. “Nothing worth repeating,” she tells him, her face quite cheerful now as she twirls a bit of his hair around her finger and leans up to kiss him very gently, her lips only barely brushing over his. “Why, did you have something to say?” She winks as she says this, and it seems as if she has perhaps taken a page out of his book for the time being. Leaning back up Noémie lets her lips hover just before his, not quite close enough to touch, though her breath does run over his lips.

Shaking his head slowly, a smirk playing at his lips, Joseph is silent for a moment, as if trying to think of something witty to counter that with. Finally, he offers, “Nothing worth saying,” his voice barely at a whisper, shivering a little bit at the close proximity of her lips before finally kissing her again, letting his lips linger lightly on hers for a moment before moving closer and pulling her closer in turn, kissing her with greater force and passion, and holding her as close as he can without running the risk of squashing her uncomfortably. That would not be fun.

“Mmmmm,” is all Noémie decides to say in response — as if there’s anything worth saying anyway — and she unwinds her arm from around his back, standing on tiptoes as she winds it up over his shoulder. Her own intensity increases as she does this, and even should a teacher spot the two of them being cozy like this, Noémie can be sure that she won’t care. This is worth a detention, she decides. Her joy at the situation seems to be demonstrated as she playfully nips at his bottom lip with her teeth ever so gently, pulling back from him just ever so slightly, letting her lips brush over his.

Breaking into a small smile, Joseph leans back a little further, breaking the last of the contact between them, and licks his lips slowly, looking at Noémie all the while. Leaning closer to her, he kisses her again, though this time between the eyes, more of a fatherly kiss, before leaning further down and kissing her on the nose, then again on the neck. This probably seems logical to him.

Giggling a bit as Joseph kisses her forehead and her nose, Noémie leans her neck to the side, as if giving him a bit of a hint about her neck. She reaches one hand back to pull her hair away and grins, running her fingernails — now able to grow, since it is off-season for Quidditch — over the back of his neck gently. Another sigh emits and she leans her forehead gently against the edge of his shoulder, peering up at him out of the corner of her eye.

Taking the hint as best he can, Joseph‘s lips linger on her neck for a longer moment, his breath tickling at her skin. When he speaks, his lips continue to brush against her neck lightly. “You’re beautiful, Noémie. You’re the most beautiful girl it has ever been my pleasure to meet.” And again, he kisses at her neck, though this time his teeth scrape lightly against her skin, too – so, in many respects, rather more akin to a bite than a kiss. Then, extracting himself from her neck, he looks her in the eye again, his gaze unwavering, unblinking and strangely intense, raising a hand to brush aside some of her hair, winding a lock of it through his fingers. “You’re… you’re a really special kind of girl, Noémie Ribouet.” He finally whispers. “There’s something about you that’s so different from the other girls here. You’re smart, beautiful, athletic… what could I have done to deserve you?” So, it’s hardly poetic, but it’s probably more heartfelt than anything he’s recited to her before.

“You’re just too sweet, Joseph,” Noémie tells him, running a finger down his cheek. “I don’t know how I could ever be mad at you.” She shakes her head a bit and picks it up off of his shoulder. She looks at him for a moment, a smile playing on her lips as she leans in and presses her lips to his gently, almost sweetly, which contrasts with their usual feverish and frenzied kissing. “I love you, Joseph,” she tells him, her voice in a whisper as she runs her finger down the bridge of his nose. “You’re more wonderful. So thoughtful…” She seems to sigh as if she is currently in a reverie of romance while she looks up at his face, her lips twined into a small smile.

Cheeks flushing slightly pink at this compliment, it seems that Joseph isn’t quite as immune to compliments as he would like to pretend he is. One hand remains entangled in her hair – he really does find hair fascinating, this one – while the other strokes her back vaguely. He doesn’t seem to be really thinking about what he’s doing, content enough to just smile at her in silence for a moment, basking in the romance of the moment. The fingers intwined in her hair eventually unwind, however, and brush against her cheek, then move downward to her chin, lifting her head slightly and echoing her action in a brief, chaste, romantic kiss. “I don’t ever want to lose you, Noémie, and I feel bad enough for offending you at all, even once.” He whispers, his lips remaining only perhaps an inch from hers, his eyes fixed intently on hers.

“Let’s not think about that right now,” Noémie tells him, her voice hushed and quiet as she leans up and presses her lips to his again, lingeringly. “Let’s go somewhere… somewhere nice and cozy.” She twists her lips into a smirk as she says this and runs her thumb over his cheek, then down his neck. “I bet we could lock the Prefects’ Study and get cozy in there.” Ah, Noémie, ever the opportunist! Well, not usually, but it seems that this is an extraorinary situation, at least to her. “Doesn’t that sound nice?” She grins up at him and giggles a little bit as she kisses him again, leaning back down on flat feet and looking up at him from the distance between their heights.

“Mmm…” This is all Joseph has to offer in response for a moment, just enjoying the close contact of the two. The hand stroking her back runs down and rests on her rear end – after all, he’s had the opportunity for several minutes, he has to take it eventually. “That sounds like a lovely idea to me, Noémie. Somewhere nice, cozy… private…” Using the hand on her rear end to pull her a little closer, he kisses her on the nose again, and then again on her lips, just fleetingly. “But I don’t know if I can bring myself to go all the way over there…” His tone borders on whiny, almost, though he doesn’t seem to mind the idea, altogether.

“Oh, honestly,” comes the all too familiar response as Noémie rolls her eyes. “Wouldn’t it be better than standing out here where just anyone could see us…” She leans her head on his shoulder momentarily and then picks it back up kissing his lips slowly, letting her lips linger over his a moment, and then leaning up to look at his eyes again. “Think of how comfy we could get, rather than ducking behind statues or against hard stone walls. There’ll be pillows and those comfy couches in there…” Pulling at him with her arms still over his shoulders Noémie steps backwards just a little, as if coaxing him toward the castle.

“No one’s going to see us out here…” Joseph protests, though it is a token protest at best, and he doesn’t seem half as annoyed about the idea as his words would indicate. “Alright, alright, I’m going, I’m going.” Couches certainly do sound like a lot of fun, he must admit, and so he steps forward a little, following her, then lowers – or, as the case may be, removes – his hands, folding them across his chest and rubbing at his arms (feeling the cold, perhaps, now that he is not as entangled with the prefect?), smiling at her and licking at his lips almost absentmindedly. “Don’t forget the roses. I went to a lot of trouble to acquire those for them.” Then, he hesitates, watching her. “You did… like the flowers, right?”

“Oh, of course I liked them. Why would you think I didn’t.” She pauses and leans down to retrieve them and holds them at her side. “I’m just distracted by even better things at the moment is all.” With this, Noémie taps the end of his nose with her finger and starts to saunter off toward the school, seeming as if she’s trying to flaunt her feminine wiles, though there aren’t much to flaunt on her thin figure. She glances only momentarily over her shoulder as she walks rather speedily toward the pitch, looking very awkward indeed as she makes her way toward the school, quickly sauntering — a difficult task indeed!

Bustling alongside her husband, her arm looped through his, Sibyl Wexler makes her way down the winding streets of outer Hogsmeade at an energetic waddle. “Oh, this is lovely!” she breathes, tilting her plump, pregnancy-rounded face up to gaze at the budding trees that arch overhead on the picturesque street. “A bit out of the way of the center of town, but oh, it’s beautiful! Where’s the house that the estate agent was talking about, love? You’ve still got the card with the address on it, don’t you?” Sibyl returns her attention to earth in a sudden buzz of practicality, but her dreamy smile remains.

“It’s right here,” Basil responds, holding the card out as he looks from the card, then back up at the house. “Do you think we’ll be allowed to look inside? I’ll want to make sure it’s sturdy enough. It doesn’t look like it’s got a good foundation on it. Likely very shoddy.” Looking at houses all day has got the man a little irritable and perhaps a bit hypercritical, but even he seems pleased with this one more than the others that they have looked at so far. “Tell me, why did I agree to this again?” he asks for what must be the fiftieth time.

“Of course they’ll let us inside,” Sibyl replies soothingly, giving her husband’s arm a pat. “And you can look at the foundations and beams and everything to your heart’s content.” She unlaces her arm from Basil’s, and moves up closer to the house – a large, slightly aging building with a small tower sticking up at the top, and elaborately carved woodwork around the eaves, painted in a cheerful shade of yellow with dark green trim. “Now isn’t that lovely,” Sibyl muses. “Look at the tower – I bet Alden would love that, being off in his own little world…” Sibyl tilts her head, studying the house with narrowed eyes, sharp and critical despite her cheerful daydreams. “And you’re doing this because you want to move closer to us, love,” she adds, her voice and gaze softening as she looks back at her husband. “And we’ll all be happier if we’re living closer together.”

“I hated looking for houses the first time around,” Basil comments and walks up to the house, pushing on an outer wall, as if the house might crumble as he does this. “Can you tell how long it’s been since someone last lived here?” He wonders aloud. “Why did they move to begin with, anyway? What’s wrong with the place that they didn’t want to stay?” Basil appears to be full of doubts, even about this, the best and nicest house yet. “Perhaps we ought to talk to that agent and see what he has to say about this one, whether he can point out what its problems are.”

“I know, love,” Sibyl soothes, waddling over to Basil to give him another pat on the arm. “But once we find one that we like, we won’t need to look again for a good long time. And I’d like to take a look without the agent first,” she continues, moving on to survey the shutters, poking up at them with one critical finger. “You know, discovering things on our own?” The grin that Sibyl aims back over her shoulder at her husband is touched with just a hint of conspiratorial mischief. “And then we’ll hear what he thinks.” She reaches a hand out to Basil, beckoning him towards her. “Come on – let’s see if it’s unlocked!”

“Well, I suppose if nobody lives here…” He agrees, though reluctantly. After all, it was what they were here for anyway, right? Striding up to the door, he jiggles the handle apprehensively and glances around, and then pushes the door open. “I guess it’s unlocked,” he comments and shrugs. Basil doesn’t look entirely pleased by this, but he steps inside the house nevertheless, pausing in the entry hall as his voice echoes throughout the empty rooms. “Well, it’s got space, at least,” is all he can say at first as he looks around, scrutinizing the ceiling.

“Oh, my, I didn’t think it would be!” Sibyl cries, hurrying after Basil with an excited, girlish giggle. “Oh, it’s lovely! Look at that chandelier in the dining room – do you think those are spots for real candles, or those new Automatic Ever-Burners?” The floor creaks slightly under her quick, heavy footsteps as she moves around the living room and dining room – not enough to suggest that it is unsound, just old and creaking in the way that old houses do. “And yes, look at that ceiling! Plenty of space in here!” Sibyl reaches up to run a finger across the mantel of the enormous fireplace, rubbing the dust off with a critical frown, but what she says is, “Lovely big fireplace – plenty of room to Floo in,” as she moves past. “Is the kitchen this way, do you think?” Her voice floats back through the echoing empty rooms as she moves off through the dining room towards the back of the house.

Basil, for his own part, is more concerned about checking the steps of the stairs, the bannister, the walls, the ceilings, and almost every structural aspect of the home, as if bound and determined to find something that could damn this house as well. “The stairs are solid,” he comments, and though his voice still echoes through the emptiness of the house, it doesn’t echo loudly, since he is more intent on checking them over once more, while also checking the bannister again as he descends the stairs. “How’s the kitchen?” he calls.

“Oh, good,” Sibyl calls back. “Don’t go up without me, love.” Her heavy footsteps recede towards the back of the house, but her voice is strong enough to carry through the network of doorways and corners. “The kitchen is wonderful! There’s a huge fireplace in here too, and – oh, plenty of cabinet space, and one of those new cutting boards that cuts the vegetables for you. Everything’s very well-kept – oh, and there’s a back door that leads to a garden in back.”

“There’s a garden?” Basil comments and looks around the corner into what looks like it might have been a livingroom. He walks through the room, stepping carefully on the boards, checking for creaks. “It looks like it has hardly been lived in. How peculiar,” he comments, stepping over to yet another fireplace that the house holds and pushing on the mantlepiece with a scrutinizing gaze. “Did the agent say how many fireplaces this house was supposed to have? I mean, how many do we need?” he comments, looking over the walls in the room, which also seem to be adorned with sconces.

“I think they said three fireplaces?” Sibyl replies, her voice lowering as she waddles back out into the dining room, drawing closer to Basil again. “And four bedrooms – well, four bedrooms and one more ‘extra room,’ they said. I think that extra room must be the one in the tower, and I do think Alden would love that, if it’s the sort of room I think it is. Here, let’s take a look upstairs. Unless there’s anything else you’d like to see down here?”

“Three…” he comments and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, I don’t want him to be stuck up in that tower as his bedroom. He’d never come down.” As his wife suggests looking over the upstairs, he nods and walks toward the stairs. “Do you need some help up, Sibyl? They’re sturdy stairs, but I imagine they’d be a little akward?” Basil pauses at the foot of the stairs as he says this, waiting for Sibyl to join him, his arms still crossed.

“He would when he’s ready,” Sibyl replies, her voice taking on the familiar soothing tone that it so often must when she’s talking about her son to her husband. She starts to follow Basil towards the stairs, her eyes narrowing skeptically as she measures the angle and steepness. “Well. . . yes, I think I might need a hand up,” Sibyl sighs, and slips her hand through the closed-off crook of her husband’s arm, giving him another reassuring squeeze. “Come on. Let’s see the upstairs.”

Holding his arm out and uncrossing his arms, Basil reaches one arm around Sibyl and reaches the other out to hold her hand and help her up the stairs. “It’s the one very good thing, though, that these stairs are so good. No worries about Alden or Alice or Briony falling through at any time.” He makes his way slowly up the stairs, helping Sibyl all the way. “So there are four bedrooms? I suppose, then, we can have one for each of them to sleep in, rather than Alice and Briony sharing the room?” He pauses as he finally reaches the top of the stairs, looking down the hallway that follows, and peers at a rope that hangs down at the end.

Leaning heavily back into the supporting circle of her husband’s arm, Sibyl makes her way awkwardly up the stairs. “No – no chance of – anyone falling,” she agrees, puffing slightly with exertion on the steep climb, but giving Basil an affectionate grin through her reddened cheeks. “Yes – that’s right. Unless they want to share, of course.” With a breathless sigh of relief, she straightens up again upon the return to flat ground. “Although Briony’s getting to the age where she’s probably going to want her own – Oh my,” Sibyl interrupts herself to say, and reaches out to catch hold of Basil’s arm again. “What’s that?” she asks, pointing to the rope with her other hand. “A trap door to the attic, do you think?”

“I suppose that’s what it is,” he responds, releasing his support of Sibyl as he goes to look into the nearest room. “How excessive,” he comments, pausing in the doorway to spy a room with a long windowseat, and a large open closet. “Who needs this much space in a bedroom?” Basil turns and looks over his shoulder at Sibyl before stepping the rest of the way into the room. Sconces line the walls and he walks around the room, tapping periodically on the walls to test their resiliency and solidity.

Sibyl‘s heavy footsteps creak on the floor as she moves to follow her husband. “Oh, it’s lovely!” she breathes, peering through the door into the room. “Basil, that could be our room! Look at that closet – and you can see the back garden from the windowseat! It would need a coat of paint or two, but that’s easily done.” She cocks her head, listening to the sound of her husband’s hand knocking against the walls. “Do you hear any hollow places?” Sibyl asks, her eyebrows lifting mischievously. “I’m sure a wonderful old place like this has at least one secret passage.”

“Nothing hollow,” Basil states quickly, then pauses to look at Sibyl. “Secret passage ways? Oh no. No, no. Eva used those far too much for ill purposes. I’ve never seen the point, anyhow.” He shakes his head and comes to stand in the middle of the room. “The walls in here are solid at least. The pink paint makes me think that it must have been a girl’s room before.” He pauses. “It’s far too big to put a child in, though.” He shakes his head again. What is it that Basil has against this house, which makes him critisize it so heavily?

“Which is why I said it should be our room, and why we can paint it,” Sibyl declares, a note of reproach in her voice in response to Basil’s negativity tempered by affection and a kiss on his cheek. “Come on, love, let’s look at the rest of the rooms. And at that place with the rope – although if it goes to one of those pull-down ladders, you’re going up it by yourself!” she adds, with a bright laugh. Still, Sibyl‘s eyes are slightly narrowed as she looks up at Basil, and she searches his frowning expression with a little concern of her own.

“Well, I suppose so. It could use better wallpaper, that’s for certain.” He shrugs and turns, making his way out of the room and crossing the hall. Looking into the next room, he seems almost perplexed at seeing an almost duplicate copy of the one opposite it, though the size is ever so slightly smaller. “The extravagance…” he comments and shakes his head. “Did the agent listen to our price requests? This must be terribly expensive to have such area.” Basil‘s eyebrows knit together and he turns to look at Sibyl. “I mean, two rooms of this size, and who knows how large the third is, plus the tower? We aren’t made out of money.” The man looks genuinely concerned.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Sibyl asks in honest surprise, her eyes going wide as she hurries to keep up with her husband. “Basil, love, I’m working now, too, you know. We’ve got more money now, and even if this house is at the top of our range, it’s still in our range.” Sibyl reaches out to put her hand on Basil’s arm again, soothing and steadying. “Really, love, it will be all right. The last room looks much smaller,” she continues, pointing down the hallway towards another half-open door. “That will be perfect for the nursery. And look, there are the steps up to the tower…”

“If we put the nursery in here, and then put Alice and Briony over there, in the blue room…” Basil pauses and looks to the stairs toward the tower, a sense of resignation seeming to settle over him. “I suppose Alden will have to sleep up there, then.” Striding past the rope hanging down for what appears to be a separate attic, Basil starts slowly ascending the narrow stairway, testing each step as he goes. “This bedroom is quite as big as the others are,” he calls, sounding quite shocked as he starts stomping the floor to test the floor boards and tapping the walls.

“He’ll love it, Basil,” Sibyl reiterates, but her voice is still gentle, and softened by the affectionate thought of her son as she gazes up the stairs towards the tower. “He’d ask for it himself, once he saw this place.” Her voice echoes off of the narrow walls of the tower staircase, and a footstep creaks on the bottom stair. “It’s that big, really?” Sibyl calls up. “Here – let me see if I can get up there…”

“They’re narrow stairs, do you need some help?” Basil calls down, though, the fact that she’s started her way up does make it difficult for him to help in this case. He does go to the stairs and descend several steps, looking down at her with a concerned expression on her face. “Do you?” Pausing, he looks back over his shoulder. “I can assure you it’s every bit as big as the other rooms. Alden wouldn’t suffer for it, though he’d best not use the stove that’s up here without warning.”

“Yes, I think I do,” Sibyl admits with a sigh, and reaches up to her husband with one hand, still leaning heavily on the railing with the other. “Just a bit of a tug, thank you, love. And I’m sure Alden will be happy that his room is as big as the others. Really, having the three older children’s rooms the same size will make everything much easier – nobody can quarrel over whose is bigger. And we’ll check out that stove before anyone uses it,” she adds – for once, Sibyl‘s adamance matches her husband’s in matters of safety.

“Alright,” he comments and steps downward to take Sibyl’s hand and help get her up the stairs. “I don’t suppose he’ll have much reason to use it anyway. He’s never had any interest in cooking or anything of that sort.” After Sibyl has been helped up the stairs, he lets go of her hand and steps into the room. “There’s good light, though. And we’ll want to change the wallpapering. Alden won’t like the yellow.” He shrugs a bit and taps on the wall. “It’s all built well, at least. Nothing weak or breaking.” Basil walks over to the window and looks out with a bit of a shudder, quickly looking back in.

“Oof! Thank you, love,” Sibyl says again, with a soft grunt of exertion as she hauls herself up the stairs. “Oh my – oh – very nice,” she agrees, still panting as she tries to catch her breath. “Lovely – lovely view. And yes – we’ll let him choose the color. We could let each of the children choose the color of their room – they’ll like doing that. Choosing within reason, of course,” Sibyl adds with a grin, holding up a hand to forestall the protest that she predicts is coming from her husband. “And Briony only gets one pick – she can’t change her mind after it’s done.”

“She’ll have to agree with Alice about it, and I’ll say it now — no Quidditch papers. Alice would never forgive her.” Basil chuckles a bit, thinking of how different each of their children is. “Well, she’d never forgive us, either.” He shrugs as he says this. “I guess we should go talk to the agent about this? It’s more than big enough for us.” He looks to Sibyl, directly not looking out the window, and reaches to put his arms around her. “And hope he doesn’t arrest us for coming in without asking, I suppose.” Basil diverts his eyes as he says this and then shrugs. He won’t think of it for this moment.

Sibyl slips her arms around her husband, leaning up against him – but also turning him away from the window with its dizzyingly high view, as she reaches up to gently guide his face down towards hers for a soft kiss. “Don’t worry, love. It will all work out.” When Sibyl tilts her head back, she is already grinning widely. “I knew you would love it!”

“Well, it’s going to need some work before we can call it ours, but I suppose it’s alright.” This is Basil-speak for ‘I don’t think we could have found anything better anywhere in the country.’ “Should we go straight to the agent?” he asks, turning completely away from the window so that he doesn’t end up glancing out it anymore. “I don’t want someone else getting it first, and then us have to go searching again.” It is very clear that he has not entirely enjoyed their house-hunting excursions.

Perfectly familiar with translating from Basil to Everyone Else, Sibyl lets out a bright laugh, and plants another kiss on her husband’s cheek. “Yes, let’s do that. I would hate to lose such a lovely house!” Sibyl slips her arm through Basil’s tugging him gently towards the staircase – and away from the perilous view of the window. “Oh – and we should see what that rope is, too, on the way down.”

“Perhaps we should wait for the agent to go look at that. After all, who knows what’s up there, and if we make a mess, I’d hate to lose the house for — er — breaking in.” He shrugs and pauses as he gets to the stair case, bracing one arm on the banister and holding the other up to help Sibyl down. “Let’s take it slow. These are narrow stairs.” Should Sibyl give him her hand, Basil starts to make his way slowly down the stairs backwards until he’s down on the landing of the second floor again. “As soon as we get it, we’ve got to go get some new paper. Do you think we’ll be able to borrow Briony for a weekend?”

An unaccustomed bit of apprehension flickers in Sibyl‘s eyes as she looks down the steep, narrow stairs – but it eases into a fond smile when Basil edges around her, and she holds her hands out to her husband, leaning steadily on his supporting hands. On flat ground again, Sibyl lets out a heavy breath, half gasp and half sigh, and leans sideways towards Basil for a moment, resting against him. “Oh, I’m sure we will. There’s a Hogsmeade weekend coming up, so most of the students will be gone anyway – I’m sure we could get her then.”

“These ones aren’t so narrow,” He comments, sliding his arms around Sibyl and pausing for a moment before starting down the next set of stairs slowly. “I’m so glad we found something. I was beginning to think we’d just have to build something, and I tell you, I don’t want to try to build while I’m trying to keep up with Alden and Alice and still working at the Prophet.” He shakes his head slowly and finally reaches the bottom of the stairs. “So, to the agent now?” Basil looks to his wife as he says this, pausing very close to the front door.

“It’s all worked out,” Sibyl murmurs, under the steady, fretful stream of her husband’s anxious words. She slips her arm around Basil’s back in return, giving him a gentle, reassuring hug at the same time that she pulls herself closer to lean more heavily on him as they begin their slow descent of the staircase. “Yes,” she replies, with a smile. “Let’s go to the agent. I’ve told them to expect either an owl or a visit sometime soon.” Despite Sibyl‘s soothing tone, her enthusiasm continues to bubble just below the surface, rising up in another excited grin as she looks around the first floor of the house. “Isn’t it wonderful?” she asks, pulling her husband closer.

Nodding to Sibyl, Basil leans in to kiss her cheek. “It’s terrific,” he tells her as sincerely as he can manage, which is pretty good, all things considered. Stepping outside, he breathes in deeply. “Not a moment too soon. It’s starting to get dark, and Eva will wonder what’s keeping us.” Whether she actually will or not is debatable, but it is clear that Basil wants to finalize this as quickly as possible. He begins down the road and starts walking toward where the agent’s shop is, intent on making the deal as quickly and as frugally as he can.

“Suuuuuukiiii!” Tallis whines behind a bookshelf in the rather crowded student library as she stamps her foot. A resounding “shhhh” is emitted from several students within the library. Lowering her voice to a whisper she elbows her friend in the ribs, “We have yet to find a good idea.” Dramatically the fifteen year-old girl crosses her arms over her chest. “This library is full of dust and dusty books–nothing useful. Dust has no use whatsoever.” Wrinkling her nose, Tallis looks down at her robe which has several dust particles attached to it, “Disgusting!” Once again the girl’s remark is met with the resounding echo of several students “shhhh”‘s. Pressing her lips together she glances around the library. If they can’t find anything resarch-wise, perhaps they can find something fun to do…

“Stop losing me,” whines Suki as she follows Tallis’ voice, finding her behind the tall shelf. Slowing her pace as if to make some kind of point, Suki glances quickly around, re-taking a census of the room’s inhabitants. “Boring,” is all she notes, a touch too loudly for being in the library. “Dusty books and dusty people,” Suki muses, glancing down to her hand, fingers spread, to admire her nails. “Anyways, today is a bad day to work on the project, I told you this morning,” Suki reminds her friend. “I always have a feeling about these things. If we hadn’t've come, you wouldn’t have dead, microscopic organisms and skin cells all over your robe now,” Suki exaggerates with a huff.

Slipping around a bookshelf, apparently studying the shelf for a text in particular, Joseph Wexler is, for once, quite alone. From the way his eyes dart around, though, particularly around the doorway, it is surely only a matter of time before the girl so often by his side meets him there. His lips move slightly, forming silent words, as if trying to remember some words or prose that he has memorised. The secret of his success: reciting it to himself when no one is looking to make sure he can still remember. Hands shaking slightly, barely visibly, he snakes a length of licorice from his pocket, chewing on the end idly, almost unthinking. So the rules say no eating in the library. What’s life without a little casual rule-breaking?

“I’m sure we’ll find something better. Maybe there are some books back that weren’t here before,” Olivia comments to Evan, walking in slowly with several books in her arms. She makes her way over to the librarian and sets them down for return before looking to Evan again. “Where do we start this time?” she asks, making her way to a table and putting her sweater on a chair as she waits for Evan to make his way over there also.

Her nose seemingly buried in a new novel, Noémie walks slowly toward the library in casual duds rather than her school robes. As she makes her way into the entrance of the library, she at first walks past Joseph without even noticing him. She is several steps inside before she finally looks up, glancing around to see where her sweetheart is. Looking from table to table, she at first seems perplexed. Where could he be? And then looks over her shoulder, as if he could be trying to pull a prank on her. “Oh,” she comments, turning around and walking over to him. “You weren’t waiting long were you?”

Placing another couple books on the counter, Evan moves a hand to reposition the bag on his shoulder as it slides. “Those shelves…” turning to get his bearings once they reach the table, he pauses, then points. “I wanted to glance at a couple more books in that section, there were supposed to be a couple more detailed volumes.” His hand seems to be waving in the general direction of one of a nearby charms section; presumably, Olivia has been here with him before and won’t need more specific directions.

“Suki-dear, dusty people don’t necessarily have to be dull. We can make them fun. You know that. I know that. I’m sure they’re also at least vaguely know what easy targets they are. The dull become exciting when the exciting exploit their dullard nature.” Tallis‘s eyes glance about the room purposively, lingering on each figure as she evaluates them–sizing them up for flaws, things to tease. Slowly the girl strides up the rows of shelved books to spot her newfound targets. Quickly she moves into the shelf adjacent to the pair (and hides behind the rows of books), motioning for Suki to follow her. “Ravenclaws … how I love a couple of dull bookworms…” she whispers to her cohort.

“Too eassssy!” hisses Suki at first, but follows Tallis after a few moments’ hesitation. The girl remains very quiet as she listens, attempting to eavesdrop on what Noémie and… whoever that boy was… are saying. Some of Suki‘s best intelligence has been gleaned in this manner. Looking in silence to Tallis, she flashes her friend a sort of ‘knowing’ look as she waits.

“Right,” the girl answers and saunters — if Olivia can, indeed, saunter — over to the section in which they have spent so much time. “Perhaps I should look up about clothing. Maybe certain charms can have, uh, adverse effects on … garments.” She sounds very much as if she might be quoting out of a textbook rather than speaking of her own vocabulary. “I’ll go look that up,” she tells him and smiles, putting a hand on his arm before skipping a bit toward the section where she figures it will be, which also happens to be in relative proximity to Tallis and Suki.

“Six, maybe seven hours.” Joseph replies somberly, his expression perfectly deadpan; ruined, somewhat, by the fact that he sucks in the remainder of his string of licorice like a string of spaghetti, swallowing it hastily. “Who could refrain, that had a heart to love, and in that heart courage to make love known?” He offers quietly, smiling, yet unable to resist breaking the mood by reaching into his pocket for a bar of chocolate of some description. “Macbeth, if you were curious. That Shakespeare guy I was telling you about.” Winking at Noémie, if he noticed the attention being paid to him and his partner by Tallis and Suki, he doesn’t let it show at all.

“Sounds good.” Evan smiles at Olivia, trailing after her for just a moment as he moves his eyes along the titles. “I think I’m going to continue comparing general heating and cooling spells, and mind-oriented spells if those more detailed books say enough, with some of the latin. And see if I can figure out how they all work.” Quite a tall order for the fourth year, but with all of that in mind, he moves along the shelves with a more purposeful air about him, pausing here and there to look. He doesn’t stray too far from Olivia in his searches, nor, therefore, those she happens to wander near.

“Right,” Noémie comemnts with a chuckle and closes the novel she’s reading, tucking it into her bag. “We’re here to study, though, so let’s not get distracted.” Not a glance goes to the two Slytherins in the book aisles and she makes her way to a table nearby where Suki and Tallis seem ot have set up camp. The girl smiles at Joseph as she gets out her History of Magic texts, setting them out on the table as she rummages through her bag for the other necessary study equipment.

Wrinkling her nose at the refrain from Macbeth, Tallis shudders and raises an eyebrow at Suki. “Poetry…” she shakes her head slightly and then bites her bottom lip in an effort to suppress any laughter that might escape her lips. “Too easy?” she whispers back. “Not too easy. They’re fifth years. Besides, you don’t like her, do you?” She narrows her eyes as Noémie walks towards a table.

Caught a bit off-guard, not expecting to hear Shakespeare quotes, Suki gasps slightly as the boy recites Macbeth. Catching herself, though, Suki scoffs quietly and agrees, “No,” squinting her eyes. “I hate her,” Suki whispers. “She’s a complete show off. And on top of everything, she’s a Quidditch freak. There are endless things, Tallis,” Suki says, crossing her arms and hushing to listen again.

Olivia looks up at Suki and Tallis, looking somewhat horrified at the girls’ speech. What mean girls! As Evan speaks, and is still nearby, she pokes her head out from between the bookshelves and smiles in his direction. “That’s a good idea. I didn’t understand the last book we got much, but maybe another book could put some light on it and make more sense of it.” She grins a bit, more easily than she has in the past and looks back to the shelves in front of her, easing a book off of the shelf and leafing through some of the pages. Deeming it useful, she tucks it under her arm and runs her fingers along the other books on the shelf in hopes of finding another useful text.

Crossing his eyes at the prefect, pouting a little bit, Joseph seems rather put out by Noémie’s words. “You have no romance in your soul some days, Noémie.” He complains, shaking his head at her and following her to the table. “I go to all this effort for you, and for what? So you can sit down and lecture me about my schoolwork?” Sighing heavily, he reaches out for her hand, intending to kiss her knuckles gently, offering, “That which we call a rose by any other word, would smell as sweet, so Noémie would, were she not Noémie called, retain that dear perfection to which she owes without that title. Oh, Noémie, doff thy name, and for thy name which is no part of thee, take all myself.” He’s going to get some reaction out of her with Shakespeare, darn it, if he has to recitea whole play.

Sitting quietly at one of the tables near Joseph and Noémie, Martin Foster fiddles with the small box in his cloak pocket (why he’s wearing his cloak indoors is anyone’s guess). His eyebrows are furrowed; his eyes are narrowed. A giant tome sits open on the table in front of Martin. Pressing his lips together, Martin extracts the box, places it on top of the book, and examines the box quietly.

“Jooooseph,” Noémie sighs, probably a bit more dramatically than is necessary. “We have OWLs coming up, and I desperately want to do well. You should want to do well also.” Suki and Tallis’s comments seem to goad her this time, though, and she turns to give them a glare. “Honestly,” is all she says as she takes her seat at the table. “Just for a little while, alright?” An almost pleading expression goes to Joseph as she says this. “Oh, hello, Martin.” This is called familiarly to the Head Boy, though their interactions have been limited only to Quidditch and Prefects duties.

“Here,” Evan murmurs, paying less attention to the other Slytherins than Olivia is at the moment. “This one looks to have a useful section,” and, as it is a rather thick book he has selected, he doesn’t yet move back to their table but does set the book down at an empty place at whatever table happens to be nearby. The others in the library do get a glance as he steps out from the shelves for a moment. Upon returning to scan the volumes again, he adds, “Household spells! Do you think there is any general household spell that would help? Obviously heating water…”

A wicked smile forms on Tallis‘s lips as Noémie glares at her and Suki. Stepping into plain sight (out from beyond the bookshelf), Tallis raises a hand to her forehead and spouts, “Oh Joseph, Joseph, wherefore art thou Joseph? Deny thy father and refuse thy name.” She pretends to faint, as she allows her body to slowly fall to the ground, and lies on the dusty floor, eyes closed. Ironically, Tallis looks almost angelic in her chosen pose.

Suki Korosu-Dawson‘s jaw actually drops as Joseph begins to substitute Noémie’s name for Juliet’s. Heresy! Sacrilege! The girl’s face goes rather red as she fights the near-overwhelming urge to step out and shout very uncouth words at stupid Noémie and that stupid boy (was it Wexler?), even if he is a fellow admirer of the bard. Not that Suki would ever let that be known. Presently, though, as Tallis steps out and falls to the ground, Suki, a little stunned, only looks to the ground in confusion at her friend before glaring up to Noémie. “You killed her with your ugliness,” Suki states, deadpan.

“I want to do well.” Joseph replies, a little huffily – bordering dangerously on sulkily – leaning back in his seat tiredly. “It’s a little offensive, really, that you think I need to sit here and study all day to get passable marks. No doubt you’ll lord it over me for weeks if you get so much as one mark better than me.” Looking up at Suki and Tallis as Noémie turns to look at them, and just in time to catch Tallis’ dramatics, he winks, bordering on a flirtatious gesture. “Leave the dramatics up to the real actors, please,” he offers, raising a hand in a silencing gesture. “Though if you want lessons, don’t hesitate to ask. It’d be more interesting than this garbage.” Then, to Suki, “Silence, wyrd sister!” Then, back to Noémie, with a heavy, over-dramatic sigh. “Alright, alright, I’ll focus. But you know how well I can recite words, Noémie. I don’t need to read this.”

Snatching his box from the table at the mention of his name, Martin returns it to his cloak pocket. The Head Boy’s face turns a pale crimson as he clears his throat, “Noem–Miss Ribouet. Hello… . greetings… . salutations… .” his cheeks redden further. He forces a tight smile and then Tallis performs her antics, causing Martin to furrow his eyebrows. Finally, he clears his throat and remarks, “If we’re lucky, she died from her own theatrics… ” An eyebrow is arched at Suki and Martin shakes his head in warning. Narrowing his eyes, he cranes his neck to peer down at Tallis on the floor, “You’re probably getting dust bunnies in your hair.”

“Would the one to heat water do the same, though?” She asks. “It’s not liquid we’re trying to warm, after all, it’s robes.” Olivia looks perplexed as she chimes up and looks back at the shelves, pulling another book off of the shelf and making her way over to where Evan is. “I’ve got these.” She says nothing more, looking at the section of books that Evan is in and then glancing back to where their table is. “I’ll go put this on the table.” She turns around and goes to put the books on the table as she’s said she is going to.

Noémie‘s jaw drops as Joseph says this. “How — Joseph, honestly, you’re acting a child.” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Oh, you can’t be serious, HONESTLY.” She stands up and crosses her arms. “What is your problem?” she asks the girls before her. “Oh, woe is me, I’m not being paid attention to entirely! Whatever will I do?” She pauses. “I know! I’ll just pitch theatrics and insults at my peers and suck up to my superiors in hopes of raising my own self-worth.” She rolls her eyes and then sits back down with a bit of a plop, her cheeks reddening that she’s done this in front of the Head Boy, of all people.

“No, but it might have some useful aspects. And there could be others more closely related… I don’t know many of those type.” Shrugging once, Evan falls silent as Olivia moves off to the table, ducking out from behind the shelves himself to place another book in his stack and not quite making it back behind them again… for the small group nearby wins his attention. Pausing with a hand against the shelf, he stops to watch the scene unfold for the moment, a quick glance shot back over toward the table where Olivia has gone.

“Not dead,” Tallis states as she sits up in one fluid motion. “Quite alive as you can see.” She smiles sweetly at Suki, Joseph, Noémie, and then Martin. She cringes slightly at the notion of getting dust in her hair and then tilts her head at Noémie with satisfaction. “Excellent.” She turns to look at Suki and beams, “And you called them dull. It appears Miss Ribouet is just a hotsy-totsy young woman when her heart nears one Joseph Wexler.” She stands to her feet and slides towards Noémie and Joseph. “Dull girls just read their books. Wild women and women of the night have far more … interesting… activities.” Her eyes flash with mischief. “Miss Ribouet would like us to assume that she is an upstanding citizen in this school community, yet a Wexler–a breeder by nature–spouts poetry to her. Quite the implication, isn’t it Suki, darling? Spending time with Wexlers is an implication in itself. Having one spout poetry to you is trouble and a half…” She beams. “And then this … this outburst… certainly not behaviour fit for a prefect, is it, Mister Foster?”

While Olivia opens the book in front of her, she seems to be staring at the group as well, her eyes rather wide. After all, there’s the librarian, and is thatthe Head Boy over yonder? Olivia‘s face seems set and she sits and turns the pages of the book for a moment, her mouth dropping open, even though she is not looking at the pages at all. “Yes…” She answers to Evan, managing to turn her head to look at him for a moment before returning her attention to the book, trying not to look up at the group before her. “Oh my,” she whispers. “Do you think they’ll get into trouble?”

Seeming, as she is, unaffected by all of what Noémie has said, Suki‘s eyes only narrow as she smirks at Tallis’ rebuke. “Watch out, Noémie,” Suki adds with an acidic tone. “Marry a Wexler and you’ll have more babies than fingers by the time you’re thirty.” Tilting her head, Suki only glances at Martin before she looks away, discounting him for now. This, taunting Noémie, was too important to be curbed by Martin of all people.

Martin Foster stares in shock and amazement as Noémie loses her temper. He blinks as he processes his own thoughts and bites his bottom lip. Then Tallis speaks as does Suki. He needs to do something, but girls are not his forte. In fact, he avoids them to the best of his ability most days. He leaves all girl and emotional problems to Eloise. Opening his mouth, Martin considers speaking only to shut it moments later. Words will not formulate. How does one mediate the situation? He opens his mouth again just to shut it once more. Finally words come out of his mouth, but sentences do not, “I… don’t… hold… stop…”

Reduced to looking sulky again, Joseph is silent for a moment, eying first Noémie, then Suki, then Tallis, then Noémie again. “Fine, I’m sorry.” He finally offers, quietly, sighing again. It is telling, though, that though his eyes flicker towards Tallis and Suki again, he has nothing else to add, just eying them for a moment. Eventually, though, he pushes his chair back from the table, shaking his head slowly. “I have no intention of giving one woman ten children.” Not when he could just as easily give ten women one child each – this, however, goes unsaid, one hand pushing some stray hair back from his forehead while the other hand holds his chocolate bar, biting a large chunk off one side. “Though if you would like to test this theory, Tallis, Suki, you need only ask. I have a free hour after class tomorrow afternoon.” Though this is delivered utterly deadpan, as he finishes, he seems to realise that perhaps he has gone too far, for his cheeks flush slightly pink and he turns his attention utterly back to his book, reaching out with one hand to comfort Noémie, though not looking up at her.

With an expression that looks as if she’s been slapped in the face, Suki‘s jaw remains hanging open, unchecked, in response to Joseph’s implication. The girl appears speechless as she closes her mouth only to open it again, hands rising up, crossed, to clutch her elbows. Suki remains dumbfounded for a minute before looking back to Martin and pointing at Joseph. “That’s assault!!” she yells. “Mar-tin!” Suki whines with a stamp of her foot.

“Oh, the non-prefects are policing the prefect now, are they? From what I hear, Professor Rathe keeps you Slytherins under lock and key. After all, you can’t be trusted.” The girl tosses her hair over her shoulder and slams a book open, eliciting a loud “SHHH!” from the librarian. She glances in the direction of said person, then turns her attention back to the Slytherin girls. “And who are you two to talk about family lines?” Her eyes flicker to Joseph and her cheeks flush even redder as she slams the history book shut without regard to how loud it is. “YOU are impossible,” She hisses at him and stands up. “You two need to get a clue. If Professor Rathe were here, seeing how you’re heckling other houses and giving your house a bad name, I’m sure she would be livid.” Turning a glance to Joseph, Noémie gives him a glare and steals up her books. “And you — you can study on your own, because it’s become clear that you don’t need me.” With this, Noémie stomps down the row of tables and sits with her back toward the group of students, as far away as she can get, and clearly very, very livid.

Evan Geroff moves the few steps to stand back by Olivia, though he doesn’t sit at the table, just stands by it – leans, really – and rather openly watches. “Someone should,” he remarks back, to Olivia’s comment about trouble, falling silent until after Martin’s small attempt at control. It is Joseph that gets noise from him again – the comment, startling as it is, brings a surprised and hopefully not too loud chuckle. “Oh my.” His mouth opens after, but he refrains from calling over the first comment or two to enter his mind, instead settling for, “Well, wouldn’t they do well with kids,” murmured in a still-startled – not necessarily approving, just startled – voice to Olivia.

Staring at Joseph, Tallis is momentarily speechless, but then counters, “So you’re looking for a satisfying relationship then? Perhaps you should talk to Miss Pantall, she could satisfy your desires better than Miss Ribouet, I’m sure. Suki and I, of course, are not interested. We only look at excessively wealthy young men who are too old for us. You meet neither of the criteria.”

“Enough!” Standing up from his seat, the Head Boy’s face turns pale. “Mister Wexler!” Martin‘s tone is far too loud for the library, and is met by a hush from the librarian. He turns his head to stare at the young man–his expression grave. “Completely uncalled for! Completely. You have just insulted every young woman present. That is unacceptable. Completely unacceptable. And although other prefects in Ravenclaw may tolerate it, I do not and will not. Women are not here for your amusement, and you will apologize to Miss Ribouet, Miss Korosu-Dawson, and Miss Carter. NOW.” Now his anger has exploded, and once it erupts, it has a domino effect. “Miss Ribouet, I would have expected more from a prefect. But I can understand the explosive behaviour. I have scolded Tallis and Suki more than once in a manner not suiting for a gentleman, but that is still no excuse. As a prefect you are a leader.” He turns to Tallis, “Why? Do you want me to go grey early? Sincerely Miss Carter, are you trying to make everyone in this school despise you?” And then he pivots and turns to Suki, “And you… I expected more from you.”

The girl’s mouth falls open even farther as the spectacle escalates. “No, I should say not,” she agrees and looks at Evan. “I’m shocked… nobody’s stopped them or anything.” By now, most of the library is staring at the group of fifth years nearby. “So, we were… looking up information,” she tells her friend and stares wide-eyed at him. No, Olivia certainly will never let herself get into a situation such as this. “Right, clothing,” she comments and looks down at the book in front of her.

Without being able to stop herself, Suki bursts out laughing with such force and volume it causes multiple “Shhhhhs!” from all sides. Suki, though, doesn’t even register them as she is too busy trying to breathe through her laughter. “K-K-Kelly!” Is all she can bring forth for the time being, wiping a tear from her eye. “Oh, Tallis,” Suki manages a moment later, turning to hug the girl in her sheer joy. “Brilliant,” she remarks, face buried, still giggling, in Tallis’ shoulder. Looking up to glare at Joseph as Martin lectures, Suki is red in the face from laughing, now, as she looks to the Head Boy. “Sorry,” she shrugs. “I just don’t have much respect for him,” is her excuse.

As much as he can seem positively unruffled by some things, Joseph seems entirely perturbed by Tallis’ words, and entirely shut down by Martin’s. “Please tell me that Kelly and Cassidy have an… older sister you’re referring to…” He offers quietly, apparently hardly daring to raise his voice as loud as normal speaking volume in the presence of the Head Boy. “I’m sorry for… propositionally you, Miss Carter. And you, Miss Korosu-Dawson.” Then, turning to Martin, he adds, “Can I ask your permission to apologise to my gi – er, Noe – er, Miss Ribouet later? In private?”

Evan Geroff finally sinks into the seat he has been leaning near with a nod. “Clothing, and I was looking at different aspects of heating general objects.” Was going to, anyway. He does, at this point, flip open one of the books, though he continues to glance over his shoulder at the scene. “It’s okay, Martin’s handling it,” is his off-hand comment to Olivia, which seems almost an explanation, though he doesn’t say for what.

Beaming at Suki, Tallis is thrilled at her latest creation. “Think what you like, Mister Wexler,” she responds. “They could very well have an older sister…” She smiles smugly at the boy and then directs her attention to Martin. “But Martin, you have no grey whatsoever. Even when you lost your precious Whynnie your hair didn’t change. And no, I’m not trying to make everyone despise me, I’m just… helping people. Not everyone knows appropriate and inappropriate behaviour, and I feel it’s my job, nay, my duty to do correct inappropriate behaviour. The Wexler boy was spouting Shakespeare, and I corrected him.” She tilts her head sweetly.

“Suki, that is no excuse. When will you realize you don’t need to be another lemming?” Martin runs a hand through his hair and then adds quietly, “I’m disappointed in you.” His attention is then directed back to Joseph who receives a slight nod, “Fine. That is acceptable. But I’m warning you, Mister Wexler, young women believe what you say and if you develop a reputation for being … unchivalrous, it will haunt you.” Taking a step towards Tallis Martin tightens his jaw, “Do not test me, Miss Carter. You are already treading on thin ice.” The Head Boy narrows his eyes at the group of fifth years. “I am disgusted that four fifth year students would be caught in such a nonsensical disagreement. Is there even reason for it?” He shakes his head. “I am sorely disappointed with all of you.”

Suki says nothing about Tallis’ Shakespeare remark, but does nod and cross her arms, looking to Martin. “I am no rodent!” she protests, but at his admission of his disappointment in her, she does get an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. What was this feeling. Could it be… remorse? Suki only bows her head a little, and only for a moment. Martin could feel however he wanted about her. It didn’t change anything, did it? Tallis was fun. “Your hair looks quite nice, actually,” she adds to Martin, hoping to improve the situation.

“Right,” Olivia answers smiling a bit at Evan. She looks down at the page she’s on, and flushes rather dark red as it seems to be a blurb on undergarments. The girl flips the book to the beginning and shakes her hed. “Oh, look here — it says that garments can be charmed, but once charmed, cannot be recharmed to do the same thing, even if the charm initially fails.” She pauses and looks up at Evan. “So if it doesn’t work when we first try, we can’t just do it again; it’s basically ruined.” She looks a bit concerned as she states this and looks down at the book again.

Raising an eyebrow at Tallis, as though tempted to take back his apology already, Joseph nonetheless remains silent for a moment, reflecting on Martins words. ‘I was trying to seduce my woman when Tallis and Suki started to interfere’ isn’t a good comeback by anyone’s standards. “It is… largely unimportant, now.” He clarifies, standing up from his chair. His eyes rest on Noémie and, biting his bottom lip, he shakes his head slowly. It really is, in some way, tearing him apart to see her angry with him on the other side of the library. He has to go sort it out now, if only for his own sanity. He’s that sort of person. “If you’ll excuse me, I do need to have words with Noémie.” Crossing the library to join her, whether she should accept his presence or not, he kneels down beside her chair, offering quietly, “Noémie, hear me out, please. I have no quotations to offer. I could go and memorise an appropriate one now, but that would, I think, spoil the moment.” A brief pause, and he leans forward a little, lowering his voice still further, so only Noémie can hear him. Taking a deep breath, he adds, “I am in love with you, Noémie Ribouet. Don’t let my stupid humour stop you from recognising that, okay?”

Evan Geroff leans over toward Olivia, far enough to read the indicated passage. “No…” With a thoughtful frown, he takes his eyes off the page, gaze roaming once more toward the fifth years… but it seems to have settled down, and Olivia gains his full attention as he tries to answer. “That would only matter once we had the spell right, wouldn’t it? If prior attempts were not any spell at all, charming it with a real one would not be doing the same thing. Still,” he pauses, unsure of his reasoning, “We could always begin with scraps of cloth, and only try a full robe once it works… or… does it say, anywhere, whether it can be un-charmed if it initially fails?”

Tallis directs a silent smile at Joseph as he walks away. “I’m not testing you, Mister Foster. I wouldn’t dream of testing you.” She bats her eyelashes and then smoothes her robes. She shrugs at Suki and then nods at her compliment. “I agree, your hair is quite nice right now. Did you get a haircut?”

Noémie‘s head does not raise to even look at him as he starts to say this, and while she may or may not be listening, she does not give any indication either way, staring at the same place on the page as before. One tear drops to the yellowed page of the book and he face is set sternly. “You are horrible,” she tells him, her voice rather cold as she completely disregards his profession of love. “Honestly, what’s wrong with you.” She finally looks up at him, her face red, and it is clear that crying is imminent, more than just the one tear, though no more tears fall at this moment. It is clear that she is not pleased and that she is also doing her best to ignore the nonchalant attitudes of the nearby Slytherins.

Watching as the fifth year boy walks away from him, Martin presses his lips together. And then Tallis and Suki compliment his hair, “Actually, I did get a haircut. Do you really like it? Angelina said it was too short.” He frowns slightly and then shakes his head. “Unfortunately, I can’t let such insolent behaviour go unpunished. All of you will serve detention with me.”

“Noémie…” Though still trying to comfort the girl, it is quite obvious that Joseph feels a little bit let down. It’s supposed to be a big deal, saying something like that, and she just completely ignored it. “I don’t have a very good sense of timing, and I have a positively terrible sense of humour.” He inches further, reaching out to brush her cheek with one hand, though the tentative gesture and his tensed position indicates that he entirely expects her to push his hand away or recoil from him. Now, maybe another careful drop will get some better reaction out of her. “I can’t ever hope to be good enough for you. I, I really do love you, and if it were up to me, I’d spend the rest of my life trying to make up for today.” A sheepish sort of smile, and he adds, “Can’t you save me the trouble, please?” Look like a puppy, Joseph. No one could hurt a puppy.

“Well, maybe a little too short,” Suki says with narrowed eyes as Martin doles out the detentions. Sighing, Suki purposefully nods sagely and turns around, her back to Martin, before rolling her eyes ending in a glance to Tallis. Seeing as how they have gotten off very easily, as per usual as it was with Martin, Suki doesn’t complain for once. Secretly, Martin’s detentions were not all bad. Except for the tan one. And the cricket one. And the braids one. Augh.

“It doesn’t say if it can be uncharmed or not, but it does say that it can’t be recharmed if that charm has already been used and failed.” The girl pauses and turns the page, slowly reading down the page. “Oh, no, look — ‘Garments, charmed and failed, may be uncharmed by the talented wizard, and then may be recharmed, though doing so too often is discouraged as it may cause detrimental damage to the garment.’ So, it’s possible. We’ll just want to practice a bit at it. Oh, and look, here’s the charm.” Olivia leans over toward Evan and points to where the charm itself is listed in her book. “I should have brought parchment with me. That will be useful to remember.

“…Angelina?” Tallis quirks as she turns to look at Suki. “Huh. Interesting.” She presses her lips together and then sighs. “I have to agree with her. You need it a touch longer.” Glaring at Martin, Tallis shakes her head. “Come, Suki. We needn’t stay here with those Ravenclaws.” She shoots Joseph and Noémie a glare and shuffles out of the library.

“You hurt my feelings,” Noémie tells him quietly, tears beginning to run down her face as she sniffs rather unattractively. “And they hurt my feelings, too, but of all people, you?” She looks away, Martin’s announcement of detention only making the tears come faster as she lets out a coughing sob. “An’ you really had to say that?” Her speech becomes faster as the tears come more readily and quickly. As she speaks, more and more of her statements change to French, and soon, she is speaking only in French, her eyes now puffy, and her nose red while her face continues to be red and rather wet from tears. “{I never expected simply studying would cause so much grief! I didn’t want to cry, and I love you, too, but how could you say such a thing to me? It was uncouth and unfeeling and so awful and I hate you right now,} Joseph Wexler.” Another sob emits and while Joseph likely will not have understood most of her latest statement, she shakes her head at him, buring her face in her arms atop the History book.

“I’ve got some,” though where he dropped his bag at isn’t quite certain at the moment. “And we can still test with scraps of cloth to begin with – that way, when we do find the right spell… we won’t have to worry about the counter-charm damaging it.” Finally, the bag is located on the other side of the table, and Evan returns with it before fishing out appropriate bits of parchment and a quill. “There’s a thought, though. How do we know if we have the correct spell, if it doesn’t work the first few tries?”

Also glaring at Noémie, Suki curbs herself from sticking her tongue out as she passes her. She looks in poor enough form right now as it is. Really, things could hardly have gone better for Suki today. “See, I told you charms projects weren’t meant to be today, Tallis,” she calls, following her friend out of the library. “Tallis,” she says suddenly. “Tallis, slow down, you have something in your hair…” is the last that can be heard from Suki from inside the library.

“Right, that’s a great idea,” Olivia agrees, then pauses. “Hmmm. Maybe we could put it on our hands and go from outside to inside, to see if the charm is working? Or maybe — maybe one of the professors would know how to test it. Do you think? We could ask the Charms teacher.” Olivia looks down at the book and closes it up, putting it on top of the other that she’s picked out. “Actually, let’s go see if Professor Sedgewick would know how. She’s bound to be able to help us.” A pause. “Well, or Professor Rathe. They’re both House Heads, after all.” She shrugs and scoots her chair back a bit. “Do you want to go ask, and then see about taking some notes? I need to get my parchent and ink, and my hand rag.”

“Alright,” Martin states to no one at all. In a semi-frantic panic, he pats each of the pockets of the cloak, and his eyes widen. Cursing under his breath, the Head Boy gets down on his hands and knees and glances under each of the shelves. He curses quietly once more. “I had it before the chaos,” he mutters to himself. “No. No. No. I can’t… where did it go?! No!” He is quickly hushed by the librarian who Martin shoots a glare. After searching for a good ten minutes, Martin‘s appearance has become increasingly frazzled. His cloak is dishevled, his hair is a mess, and his face is pale. “Perfect. Just bloody perfect. I have class… but I need it. But it’s not here.” He curses again. “Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse!” Throwing his hands up in frustration, he stomps out of the library.

As much as he seems utterly confused by the prefect’s words, Joseph rises to his feet again and wraps his arms around her tightly. If she should struggle to get away, well, he tried, at least. “I don’t understand a word of what you just said,” he murmurs to her, more just for something to say than because he thinks it will actually help at all. “But, oh, Noémie, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I could never actually intend to hurt you. I’m sorry, it was a stupid thing to say.” And, at this point, he’s not even entirely certain which of the things he said upset her. What did he say to her to get her upset? Well, an apology is rarely out of place, right?

Evan Geroff gathers his bag, and the couple new books are left in an arm to run past the librarian on the way out. “Of course, any of them ought to know… There could even be a spell to, well, to test for effective spells?” This time through, his attention is very much, very carefully not on anyone else in the library, after the requisite glance around upon getting up. No one except Olivia anyway. And the librarian. “Hot and cold water maybe, or different rooms, perhaps Professor Rathe would even charm different rooms for us…” his murmuring continues as they walk out, his final comment coming with a joking grin at his companion, “I wonder if they’d fund a trip to Africa to test the cooling, it’s similar to schoolwork after all…”

“Oh, what a wonderful idea!” Olivia gasps and then claps her hand over her mouth, glancing to the Librarian apologetically. “I’m sorry,” she whispers in the direction of the woman and blushes hard as she stands up, picking up the books and holding them against her chest. “A trip to Africa would be interesting, as well, though mightn’t we just wait until the summer months to test it?” she asks as the two of them make their way out. Their voices rise in volume as they exit the library, then fade again as they disappear down the hall away from there.

Down at the Quidditch Pitch, it seemed momentarily tempting for Joseph to lift Noémie off her feet and carry her back into the castle – the broom still in hand and his sheer lack of coordination and only limited strength ended that temptation fairly quickly, and instead he opts for taking her by the hand, winking at a few of his housemates, and leading her back somewhere ‘more private’. As the case may be, this seems to be the Hall of the Stars, the sparkling lights overhead providing a nice romantic atmosphere – and coincidentally, no one else seems to be in this part of the castle at this time, right after a Quidditch game. “Sorry for stealing you away.” He offers to her conversationally, smiling at her, head tilted slightly to one side. “But I thought that you could use a sort of private congratulations before the party started.”

“Private congratulations sound like just the right thing to start the match celebrations,” Noémie comments with a grin, dropping her broom to the ground with a rather loud and uncaring clatter. The girl’s grin only widens as she ignores the fact that she is still in her Quidditch duds and probably a bit gross from the match. This is just what the doctor ordered. She leans up toward him and slips her arms up around his neck leaning in to kiss him. Noémie is not going to beat around the bush today. She’s too thrilled to do anything like that.

Kissing the prefect firmly, one arm snaking around her waist and pulling her close, hand rested on the small of her back, while the fingers of his other hand curl around tendrils of her hair, Joseph does not seem to have even remote issues with this idea. After a moment, he moves back a little bit, just for long enough to whisper, “Congratulations.” Then, he leans forward again, recapturing her lips with a passion more akin to ferocity, a certain eagerness to his movements. After all, it’s been a few hours since he’s kissed her. Hours.

“Thanks,” Noémie barely manages before his lips close over hers. She giggles a little bit at his ferocity, but doesn’t seem to mind at all as she leans in to hug him tighter to her as she wastes no time in letting her tongue roam ever so slightly. Keep it slow, Noémie. (Riiiight.) The girl brings one arm down to wrap around his back and she rises onto her tiptoes to bring her head back and separate the kiss momentarily. “Did you get taller?” she asks in a whisper, grinning a bit at him, and then leans back in to continue her ‘ministrations’.

It takes a long time for Joseph to reply. Maybe he’s thinking very carefully about his response. More likely, it’s just very hard for him to formulate a sensible response while his tongue is busy in this way. The fingers buried in her hair are unwound and instead, his hand falls to rest gently on her side, somewhere in the realm of her ribcage – and, though he comes close, nothing else. Then, after a moment, he leans back again, breaking the kiss for just long enough to shake his head and whisper, “Last time I argued with a first year, I turned his bones into high-heeled boots.”

The prefect can’t help herself as he says this. She lets out a snort of a laugh and giggles a bit into Joseph’s shoulder before looking back up at him. “Only you…” is all she comments and then presses her lips back to his again. She has to pause a moment, letting out another fit of giggles into his chest before she stops again. One would think that the girl is perhaps a bit giddy at the moment, whether from the previous quidditch match or her current company, it becomes difficult to tell. Noémie squeezes him a bit and presses her lips back to his again, finally managing to stifle her giggles.

Offering a small smile in response, Joseph kisses her in response fiercely, apparently rather more eager to enjoy her… company… than giddy as she is. His hand inches up a little more, closer, it seems, to her breast, though he more or less keeps his hands to himself and contents himself with merely resting his hand on her ribcage, stroking her back gently with his other hand. On the whole, he seems rather more preoccupied with the kiss, his lips pressed against hers with an eager passion, and a somewhat unglamourous overproduction of saliva. Well, he’s not the world’s most romantic.

The sloppiness of the kiss, though perhaps a bit less unpleasant a kiss than the kind that Noémie perfers, does not seem to particularly bother the prefect at this juncture while she rubs his back gently. Silence and calmness seems to have fallen over here, and not a footstep is heard in the corridor, causing Noémie to step up a bit and lean into the kiss a bit more boldly, almost daring him to be more bold as well. After all, he’s only been ghosting to do it for a week now, and Noémie is in the perfect mood to encourage him at it.

Looking over the list that Seker has given her to rummage out of the storage closet, Satinka looks up and gasps loudly. “Well, I never!” she comments and puts her hands on her hips, stomping the floor hard, causing an echo through the Hall of the Stars. She tsks a bit as she stands with her fists balled on her hips and shaking her head at the two older students before her. While she may not have seen them before, she feels it her duty to break up the ‘party’. After all, Satinka is her mother’s daughter.

Instinctively, as he hears the small girl’s stomping, Joseph jumps back in surprise, unentangling himself from Noémie carefully. They were just, uh, talking, right? Right. Talking. You have to go someplace nice and private for a good conversation like this one. Eying Satinka, slightly breathless both from his activities and the sudden shock of having been walked in on, the Ravenclaw boy flushes bright pink and folds his arms across his chest, endeavouring to look menacing. It doesn’t really work. He’s not really designed to be menacing. “You never what, kid?” He asks her, raising one hand to quickly wipe the excess saliva from his face, before folding his arms again. Menacing boys do not have slobber on their chins.

Gasping as she hears that they have company, Noémie puts her hands up and steps back away from Joseph, looking very startled and perhaps a bit rumpled, though much of it could be blamed on the Quidditch match she has recently come from. Right, quidditch. She instinctively wipes her own face and then crosses her arms across her chest, momentarily letting Joseph handle the girl who looks to be about first year.

“I’ve never seen such a flagrant disregard for the rules and regulations set by this fine establishment of education!” Satinka retorts quickly, her hands still on her hips as she looks from one to the other of them with a pointed expression. “You two ought to know better than to do that in a public place where you could get caught. And — do I see — you’re a prefect, too? I should tell my mum and have her get your badge confiscated. This is not suitable prefectly behavior. I could do your job better than you.” Satinka hmphs as she says this and crosses her arms across her chest, tapping her foot. “Well, what have you two to say for yourselves?”

“Shut up and go away.” Joseph replies, arms still crossed tightly across his chest. Yes, indeed, this is all he has to say for himself. Glaring at the younger girl for a long moment, he eventually adds, scoffing, “And who are you when you’re at home, and what right do you have to order us around?” Then, almost as an afterthought, a pink blush climbing his cheeks, he adds, “And we were just talking.” Yes. Talking. Really. It was just very personal, so they were very close. And intertwined. And… okay, so they weren’t just talking.

Scoffing a bit as Satinka says this. “Like you’d know. You’re, what, a first year? Go work on levitating those feathers some more honey,” Noémie tells her, being perhaps a bit more catty about it than is normal for her. She glances to Joseph with a bit of a small grin on her face after she says this, elbowing him in the side a little. She almost wants to lean over and say, ‘be nice, she’s just a kid’, but part of her can’t bring up the will to do it, so she instead falls silent.

“My name is Satinka Murielle Rathe, if you must know,” the girl replies, employing her usual tone when she informs people of this. “And I’ll have you know that my mother is Professor Rathe, the Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher, as you must already know.” She turns her nose up as she says this. As Joseph tells her that the two were just talking she scoffs. “You must think I’m dumb. That wasn’t just talking. And you shouldn’t be doing it in public. Especially if you’re a prefect. You should know better.”

“We were so talking,” Joseph replies, his tone bordering on sulky as he glowers at the girl. After a moment, though, certain pieces of information catch up and stick together in his mind, and he flushes more brightly pink than ever. “Professor Rathe? You’re – you’re just joshing, right?” Turning his gaze briefly on Noémie, he is wide-eyed for a moment, unsure of how to deal with this. “And we couldn’t actually get in trouble, even if we weren’t just talking, could we? I mean, there was no one around…”

“Oh, honestly,” Noémie comments. “Just let us off this time,” she wheedles, “And we won’t do it next time anywhere that someone can just walk in on us.” She shakes her head a bit as she says this, looking away from Satinka. Yes, the stars in the ceiling are very interesting indeed. “Anyway, give us a warning and leave your mum out of it this time.” Noémie still does not look at the girl as she says this,.

“She’s my mother, yes. I wouldn’t pretend at something like that. Honestly.” She tuts as she says this, then looks at Noémie as she speaks up. “Well, I’ll let you off this time, but only because I’m feeling nice. You just won the cup and all. But don’t do it again!” She points her finger out and waggles it. Turning with a toss of her hair, she strides over to the storage closet, rummaging through it until she has an unusual assortment of items. “Remember what I said.” Satinka tells them and tosses her hair once more before striding out of the corridor, her footsteps falling silent as she disappears down the stairs.

Blink. Blink. Stare. Blink. Joseph seems entirely dumbfounded by Satinka’s words and exit, his eyes following her as she departs, mouth hanging open. “Who does she think she is?” He hisses to Noémie, turning back to face her with a somewhat stunned expression. “She just – I did not just get told off by a ten year old… we did not just get lectured by a ten year old.” None of this stops him from reaching out for her hand, perhaps as a subtle way of indicating that he would like to go back to their ‘conversation’, Satinka Rathe and her warning notwithstanding. “I think my pride needs kissing better, weeping willow tree.”

“That sounds fine by me,” Noémie responds. “Let’s take it somewhere else,” she comments and laces her fingers through his, hugging his arm comfortably. “How about…” She seems to ponder as she says this. “Perhaps … out near the lake? I hear it’s nice and … private.” Noémie‘s voice seems to have a rather amused lilt to it, as well as perhaps being a bit coaxing. After all, what is she there for if not to soothe his ego in situations such as this?

Shrugging his shoulders vaguely, looking around as if to indicate that he sees nothing wrong with where they are now, Joseph is silent for a moment, thoughtful. Then, after a moment, he sighs heavily, and gestures in the vague direction of the Ravenclaw commons, wherever that might be. “I shouldn’t deprive our fellow Ravenclaws of the chance to ogle and congratulate you.” A pause, and he slips one arm around her shoulders, letting her hand fall from his. “But can I smack them down if they do the former too much, please?” Smiling to himself, he begins to slow, leisurely walk back to the commons.

“Certainly,” Noémie answers, the glow of winning shining back into her face as he reminds her of the win they’ve just earned. “And then after the party dies down, we can go soothe your ego some, hmm?” Noémie grins as she says this, walking slowly with him toward the commons and sighing a bit as the noise of the boisterous jubilation echoes through the hall. “Into the lion’s den,” she comments with a bit of a chuckle. “Just don’t hurt anyone too hard, alright?” This is more a statement than a request, and she winks at him, before chiming the password and slipping into the commonroom to join the celebration.

Rhian Brecon settles into her announcing chair and does a quick test to make sure that everything is working properly and she can be heard. “Good afternoon boys and girls, Professors and staff. Today is a wonderful and beautiful day, perfect for the last Quidditch match of the 1926-27 school year. Today, we have a battle against two excellent houses, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. These two teams have managed to win both of their previous games this year and so making them tied, point for point for the Quidditch Cup, and so this match will determine which House walks away with the Quidditch Cup this year. This match is being refereed by Professor Walsh, our Herbology Professor. And now we merely wait for the two teams to take the field and to get this match underway.”

For the last week, the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team has been in constant motion, bouncing from practice to practice in a blur of manic energy. Today, Eliza Marlowe is wearing the same grin that she has worn throughout the period leading up to the big game, but her eyes are serious as she looks around at her team for the last time. “Right,” she says, her strident voice as firm as ever, but with a low quiver of intensity behind it. “This is it. This is for the Cup.” Eliza looks slowly around the circle of faces. “This is what we’ve been working for this all term. We’re going to go out there and play a good game. If we win, we win cleanly. If we lose, we lose cleanly.” A different kind of quiver enters Eliza‘s voice as she mentions the possibility of losing, but she pushes ahead. “You’ve been a good team. You’ve worked hard. Now get out there and play your best.” Eliza gives her team one last crooked grin. “Good luck,” she says, and slings her broom over her shoulder to head out for the handshake that will start the match.

Alexandra Leong looks distracted as she strolls onto the pitch, broom in hand, canary yellow Quidditch robes hanging loosely, her straight black hair contained in a rough ponytail. She nods at her Captain’s little speech, making very little eye contact with her teammates. This is it, and for the Hufflepuff Seeker, the pressures are nearly overwhelming. She shifts her grip on her broom, then starts to twirl a stray strand of hair between her fingers, a nervous gesture she’s had since before her Hogwarts and Quidditch days.

Striding out to the center of the pitch, Noémie‘s face is set in a serious expression as she looks around. The stands seem to be buzzing even louder than usual on this occasion of the Quidditch Cup. The captain and seeker holds her broom down in her hand and glances around, standing off from where the Hufflepuffs are to line up before she turns to look at her teammates. “Gather ’round here,” she calls to them, clearly ready to give them a talking-to, though how harsh she will be today is a matter of some uncertainty. The cool air seems to be causing goosebumps along her arms as she waits for her team to join her.

Contrary to Noémie’s stony expression, Tegan stomps onto the pitch, looking almost angry as she settles herself near to Noémie. Riley follows just behind her, not looking quite as angry, and Tegan almost yanks him to stand next to her. “Don’t screw up today,” she hisses at the younger student, her eyes staring into his face as she says this, until he nods affirmative. The girl stands next to Noémie and crosses her arms over one another with her broom in hand and waits to see what the captain will have to say.

Rooted to the place she’s standing while listening to Eliza’s speech, Carrie stares straight at her captain with something of a determined expression having descended upon her face after Eliza finishes up. Nodding definitively as the captain goes to shake hands, Carrie, somewhat nervously, switches her broom from her right hand to her left as she takes a few tense steps ahead. She makes a point of not looking at Marybeth, but glances down to Alexandra shortly before looking to Eldric, nodding once more.

Leaning in close with the rest of her team Marybeth has her broom clutched tightly in one hand listening intently to Eliza’s pep-talk. When the captain finishes Marybeth grins and adds. “This is for all the marbles! …. No really I’ve got a big bag of marbles I’ll split them up if we win.” Yes it was a lame stab at humor but it was lighthearted and isn’t that just the Hufflepuff way? The chaser grins a final time with a small laugh bolstering her courage before she begins doing her stretches. You always want to be nice and limber for when you are playing the most exciting game ever!

Standing a little apart from his fellow Chasers, Albert Bryce listens to the captain’s speech with rapt attention…or, perhaps, nervously glazed eyes…or, perhaps, an extremely determined effort not to look at Eldric. At any rate, he’s staring straight at Eliza through the whole thing, nodding every so often, his hand wrapped so tightly around his broom that his knuckles show white.

Charlie Linwood stands, in freshly laundered robes, with a freshly polished broom, in front of Eliza, listening seriously to her speech. This is it. “For the Cup.” he croaks back, voice belying the nerves that have settled in at the last moment. It is, after all, true. If they win this the Quidditch Cup belongs to Hufflepuff… for the first time in how long? Charlie stands unnaturally firm, though he seems to force his face into a sick grin. Today of all days it is important he not accidentally hit his team instead of the other.

Bailey Williams walks out to the pitch, broom in hand, smiling and ready to retrieve the best performance of the year from himself. Stopping at the group of teammates, he addresses Tegan with a short grin and leans on his broom, waiting for his captain’s speech.

Clavicle Gravely trots out. Sort of the clown of the team, he stops in front of the Ravenclaw stands and flaps his arms, “GO RAVENCLAW!” he slings the broom, the sandsweeper 25 over his shoulder and trots over to Noémie. His robes ripple around him in the wind as he looks to the captain.

A feeling of nostalgia sweeps over Van as she makes her way out to the pitch, standing in group with her team and glancing only momentarily at the Hufflepuff team making their shouts before turning her attention forward again. It is her last match at Hogwarts, and Van seems to have to wipe a tear away as she thinks of this, taking a deep breath of the cool air and looking up into the sky. A nice clear day, perfect weather for the determinative match for the Quidditch Cup.

Eldric Carver still has a bandaged up neck, and as possibly the largest member of the team and thus the biggest target, also sports two furry purple horns like a goat’s and, barely visible under his robes, an abundance of bright pink arm hair. “I’ll get it fixed after, doesn’t change how I play!” was his reponse when he turned up to the changing rooms with these anamolies, and now he stands trying to look serious while marked by some clever but, fortunately for the casters, anonymous hexes. For a moment, he glowers over at the blue-clad players, but then nods (and grunts a bit) to his Captain’s speech and tightens his grip on both his broom and bat without a word.

“I’ve been nice this season before matches. I’ve not demanded that we win, and yet we managed to pull out wins against Gryffindor and Slytherin. Let’s keep this up and manage a win today. Let’s get that cup, because we deserve it.” Noémie‘s face is focussed and set, and her expression as she glances to Hufflepuff is almost annoyed. “We’re not going to do any stupid chanting or pep talks, because I think we have the technical skill to manage this. So, let’s pull it off. I know we can do it.” With a nod, she offers a rather strained smile to her team and turns to face the Hufflepuff team, walking forward to prepare for the handshake. Her face is stony and set as she does this, as if showing emotion to the Hufflepuff captain during the handshake will put her at a disadvantage.

Clavicle Gravely looks over to David, as David comes out as well. Today David is in serious mode. His broom is clipped and polished and he comes up to Noémie as well.

Keelan Walsh looks absolutlely disgusting in yellow, so her robes are black instead. It could almost be called unbiased, except for the yellow ribbon she’s laced around the end of her broom (Which lies next to the box of Quidditch balls). A closed expression surfaces as she watches, in a strange, detatched way, the teams chat a bit. She straightens her shoulders when it seems they’ve had enough time, clears her throat and says, “Captains? Shake hands, everyone else? You might want to get in place to start if you’re not.” Her voices rises, though still likely inaudible to the watchers. “While this game may determine which team has the glory of the Quidditch Cup,” a smirk, soft, “I want it clean. If I have to call any fouls for roughness or underhanded tactics,” she seems to look at the Ravenclaws more, though they haven’t any more record of the behavior than the Hufflepuffs, “I will not hesistate to award as many penalty shots as possible or to ground the off ending players.” Serious as stone, now, she turns to gather up the Quaffle, but doesn’t throw it yet.

At the center of the pitch, Eliza reaches a steady hand out to Noémie, and gives her Ravenclaw counterpart a firm nod. “Good luck,” she says, with complete sincerity, and even a fainter version of the crooked smile that she gave to her own team.

Noémie‘s face barely breaks its expression as Keelan makes these comments, seemingly entirely in the direction of her own team, and then nods at Eliza, giving her a stiff handshake and withdrawing her hand as quickly as she has offered it for the traditional handshake. Noémie does not say anything in response, merely nodding again and making her way back to the line of her team to make way for the chasers to vie for the Quaffle.

Readying herself to take off into the air, Carrie takes a few cleansing breaths as she looks to her feet and prepares to play a hard game. She is only vaguely aware, somehow, when she looks up to see the two captains shaking hands. Looking avidly to Keelan and the Quaffle, Carrie takes a firm grasp on her broom and waits.

Nodding firmly after the speech, Bailey looks and walks over to Clavicle and David. Clapping into his hands he urges them on. “Let’s go guys, I want to drink a good amount of butterbeer out of that cup, when this is finished.” Then he steps into position and readies himself to shoot up for the quaffle.

Making her way to get into position as the captains shake hands Marybeth is primed and ready…. if not completely nervous. She flashes a friendly smile Eldric’s way despite his shocking appearance while Professor Walsh makes her statement. She takes a deep breath and readies herself mounting her broom waiting for word to start.

Charlie Linwood moves rather mechanically to his proper spot, bringing down his broom and lifting one leg over it to stand like a muggle child with a broom for a pony, feet still on the ground. Holding his broom one-handed as he has learned to, he holds his bat-hand in the air at what could be a menancing angle if only he didn’t look so ridiculous standing and waiting. Perhaps if he didn’t look as though he might be sick it would help as well.

Tegan uncrosses her arms and crosses them again, doing this over and over until Riley finally reaches over and snatches at her arms, forcing them to hang at her sides for the time being. Tegan glares in his direction as she stands this way, and stands on her tiptoes to see what Bailey is doing, and whether he even notices her. No, Tegan! Now is not the time to get distracted. The girl manages to shake the thought out of her head and she watches for the whistle, putting her broom in a position to be able to take off for the bludgers as soon as she can.

Alexandra Leong hops onto her broom and stands ready to take off. Her gloved hands fiddle nervously with the polished handle of her broom, rubbing at none existent smudges and scratches. “We have to win we have to win we have to win…” she mutters to herself, her face scrunched with with anxiety.

Van seems to still be trying to stifle the tears that want to fall from her eyes, and she waves rather discreetly towards the Gryffindor bleachers, a smile spreading over her face. Then she seems to realize the gravity of the situation, and she rolls her shoulders a bit, rotating her arms as if to limber herself up for the shots that might come her way over the course of what promises to be a very exciting match.

Clavicle Gravely straddles the Sandsweeper and gets ready to take flight. The Egyptian broom is ready, polished and trimmed. He looks determinedly to Bailey. “Lets hope the pratices paid off then. ” he grins, having spent quite a few days in practices with Bailey getting passes down and all. David is ready as well. He looks to Noémie and Tegan and gives a thumbs up, then turns to watch the release of the quaffle.

Eldric Carver tries a smile at Marybeth, but it seems the final Quidditch match of the season, one which is so important, has drained most of his flirtatious spirit. Moving into position, his eyes fix on Professor Walsh expectantly, legs already pushing down a bit in anticipation of take-off. Unlike Charlie, he manages to look somewhat imposing with his bat lofted, as long as nobody notices, in the slip of his robes, the arm hair, or that his horns have a bit of sparkle to them. Really.

Keelan Walsh pauses, still holding the Quaffle, to release the latch that holds the Snitch in it’s own compartment. The golden ball flies out, hovers for a second, and then soars upward erratically, as if unsure how it will fly today. Turning, now, the Herbology professor straightens. With one last look at the teams (is that the tinyest of smiles toward both?), she brings the whistle to her lips, lofts the Quaffle skyward with a strange amount of force, considering it’s one handed, and blows. With one shrill note, the Cup game has begun.

As the whistle blows, Noémie pushes off the ground and flies high up into the air as fast as she can manage. If she is high up where she can see the action, she figures she will be better suited towards catching the snitch quickly. At this point, the little gold ball is out of sight, unable to be seen from where she is high above the pitch. However, as the match has just begun, Noémie does not appear nervous at this.

Glancing momentarily at Riley, Tegan kicks off the ground and flies up, brandishing her bat in her right hand. Her arm is reared back, as if there is a bludger to be hit already, despite that the bludgers have not yet been released. “Remember, Riley! AIM!” She calls to her very sullen-looking teammate as she flies to the other side of the pitch as he is at. Riley, for his own part, makes his way towards the center, watching Keelan carefully for the release of the bludgers.

With all her speed Marybeth is up in the air gunning toward the quaffle, her expression determined losing it’s usual carefree expression. With an outstretched hand she hopes to grab it before any of the Ravenclaw chasers do. As she draws closer Marybeth pushes herself to go faster and faster until she is close enough to try and make a grab for the quaffle plucking it out of the air like so much ripe melon! The girl begins flying with all her speed down pitch ready to play he heart out in this one.

In a flash, Eliza is in the air and soaring swiftly towards the goalposts, taking up her position as Keeper. Her eyes narrow, keeping close watch on the Quaffle as she edges from side to side, covering as much space as she can. “Good luck!” Eliza shouts. “Go for it, Campbell! You’ve got it!”

Rhian says, “The two teams have come out of their respective lockers, words are exchanged among them, obviously encouraging words from the Captains to their own teams. The two Captains, Seeker Noémie Ribouet for Ravenclaw and Keeper Eliza Marlowe for Hufflepuff, come to the center were Professor Walsh waits for them, which they give their starting handshakes before the two teams take their starting positions. Professor Walsh releases the Snitch before it goes zooming off, then one last look at the teams, she blows the whistle and tosses the Quaffle into the air. The game has started. Cambell manages to get a hold of the Quaffle off the toss-up for Hufflepuff as the bludgers are also released. The Hufflepuff Chasers take the Quaffle and head down to the Ravenclaw goals, the Ravenclaws working on keeping up with them.”

Van is already up in the air when the quaffle is caught by a Hufflepuff chaser, and this causes the Keeper to fly even quicker towards the hoops, readying herself quickly. Perhaps she ought to have spent less time in practice goofing off. The seventh year is stationed in front of the hoops, however, and she holds her arms up, balancing carefully on the broom as she looks out at the clump in the middle of the field, keeping her eye mostly on the chaser with the quaffle.

Bolting into the air as the professor tosses the quaffle up and blows the whistle, Carrie is off with quick reflexes. The girl notes Marybeth’s better positioning to snatch the thing and veers left, out of her way. Seeing her catch out of the corner of her eye, Carrie flits towards the Ravenclaw goalposts, turning around after having gotten a bit closer to them, her arms outstretched. “Marybeth!”

Alexandra Leong kicks off hard and scrambles towards the snitch, but it vanishes within seconds. Grumbling, the small Hufflepuff climbs rapidly, stopping a dozen feet above the rest of the players, scanning the entire pitch for signs of the erratic little golden ball that is her query. “Come to Hufflepuff…” she says in a small voice… “I’m wearing yellow, see? We could be friends, little snitch…” This recent bout of talking to objects (inanimate or otherwise) appeared last week, after speaking with a teacup resulted in a successful transfiguration of said teacup into a skittering spider-like creature. She pays almost no attention to Noémie, at least for the moment.

Clavicle Gravely shoots for the sky in the swarm of chasers shooting up after the Quaffle. His robes wip around him and he looks determined, but he is not in the lead today, as he had a bad shove off at the get go. He sees Marybeth get the quaffle to begin with and instead tries to get into a better position to harry the Hufflepuff on the way to the rings. David shoots up as well to prepare to try to steal the Quaffle as well. The two split to try to come at the Hufflepuff girl from both sides to force her away from the rings if successful.

Keelan Walsh watches for a minute and then, quickly, frees the bludgers, ducking under them as they move at first of their own speed, with the seeming joy these inanimate objects always seem able to express at freedom. One bludger heads up at almost a straight line, detouring at last toward Bailey, though the course is random. Of course, a bludger doesn’t focus on one person. The other bludger moves skyward toward Alexandra, as if aware(though of course it is not) that the other went for a Ravenclaw. For her part, Keelan mounts her broom and begins the slow, careful circling of the pitch, eyes darting here and there with a strange intensity, alert for fouls.

Seeing Marybeth moving forward to catch the Quaffle, Albert moves to take up a supporting position. One hand out to catch the ball if Marybeth decides to pass, Albert starts to maneuver himself carefully between David and Marybeth, trying to prevent the opposing Chaser from intercepting any passes. Albert aims a quick, wary glance over his shoulder at David, keeping a careful eye on his Ravenclaw counterpart.

With the sound of the whistle Bailey kicks off and rushes towards the quaffle. Seeing that Marybeth has an advantage, he accelarates even harder, trying to tip it out of her hand. But as the Hufflepuff grabs the ball, Bailey zooms up, performing a hard turn to chase the carrier. He notices his fellow chasers approaching her from both sides and keeps follow her closely.

Spying that one bludger is headed toward one of her own chasers, Tegan begins to fly toward it quickly, her bat brandished. “Heads up, Bailey!” she calls to him, to warn him of the danger he’s in in case she should be too slow to get to it. Thankfully, Tegan catches up to the bludger fast enough to be able to give it a whack, sending it directly toward Marybeth in hopes of dislodging the Quaffle from Hufflepuff posession. Riley watches for the moment, as he is not entirely motivated to go save the other team’s seeker from being hit by a quaffle.

Charlie Linwood is in the sky as soon as the whistle blows, though he sort of hovers below the rest of the teams, waiting for the release of the bludgers. As they are, he notes the one that hurtles toward Alexandra, and makes pace to stop it, bat brandished two-handed like the club it is. Coming level, he looks, briefly, for a flash of blue, and smacks the ball away from his team and toward–it looks like Tegan. Oops. Never hit a bludger at the opposite beater, Charlie.

Flying as fast as her broom will take her Marybeth is well aware of the three Ravenclaws on either side of her and looks hastily down the pitch while maneuvering a bit snakily to avoid them. A great smile comes to her face as her savior Carrie is spotted and with a great heave Marybeth sends the quaffle hurtling toward her fellow chaser down the pitch with a yell of excitement “Carrie!” It is unfortunate however that the moment the quaffle left her hand Marybeth was struck in the side by bludger hit by Tegan and nearly slips off of her broom before catching herself. Well she seems alright for now.

Eldric Carver is off toward the bludger Charlie hits before he spots Charlie doing so as well and makes a wide, banking turn to avoid redundancy. The redirected bludger is spotted, but of course he’s farther from it than he should be and doesn’t make it in time to save Marybeth. “Sorry!” escapes as he zips past to redirect it from his own Chasers–toward Clavicle goes the bludger, at the sound of Eldric‘s bat. The horns seem to quiver, but of course they can’t be. Too small.

Wincing as Marybeth takes a rather nasty-looking blow from a bludger, Carrie has only a split second in which to compose herself. Doing so, the girl lunges down to receive Marybeth’s pass, managing to catch it using two hands. “Okay!” she exclaims, turning and bolting off in the direction of the Ravenclaw hoops, hoping to make it there before the Ravenclaw chasers can catch her.

Rhian says, “With the bludgers released, a new danger is in the game. One of the bludgers goes after Williams, though Madison manages it to deflect it before it got too close to the Ravenclaw Chaser, hitting it towards Campbell in hoping to get Ravenclaw the Quaffle. The second Bludger has gone after Leong, the Hufflepuff Seeker. Linwood manages to get that Bludger away from Leong, though now it heads toward Madison, possibly a bad move. Campbell notices she’s surrounded by blue and passes the Quaffle to Whittier, just before she gets hit by the Bludger sent by Madison. Carver gets the last of that Bludger and sends it off toward Gravely.”

Wincing at the impact of the Bludger with his teammate’s side, Albert still keeps his focus, and moves ahead to position himself for a pass forward from Carrie. They’ve practiced this dozens of times – Albert keeps his eyes on Carrie, ready for one of her fancy flying tricks. And he keeps on the Quaffle, ready for another pass so that he can bring the ball one step closer to the goal.

Startled that for once a bludger is headed directly towards her, Tegan‘s head seems to quirk a bit, but not for long as she sends the bludger flying to the group of chasers, hoping to hit Carrie this time, as she has already managed to shake up the quaffle’s posession from Hufflepuff a little bit. Riley spots the other bludger flying towards one of the Ravenclaw chasers, and starts flying speedily down toward the group of chasers in hopes of intercepting it before it hits someone. “Look out!” he calls and brandishes his bat out as far as he can manage to try to keep the bludger from hitting. He only barely manages to whack it back in the other direction, at nobody in particular before he has to pull out of the way rather than run into his own teammate.

Clavicle Gravely turns and sees the pass and whips the sandsweeper 25 around. He pours on the speed. The Egyptian broom is built for speed and soon he’s catching up to the hufflepuff, The broom catches up to the other and Clavicle sees David’s broom didn’t quite have the speed to be close enough, so he tries for a steal, He shoves at the Quaffle, and sends it off towards Bailey instead!

Charlie Linwood seems to have taken up protecting Alex, somewhat out of his head at the fact that this leaves Eldric to deal with both bludgers most of the time. He doesn’t get too close to her, but neither does he swoop in to join the main fray. Charlie‘s face has gone about as pale as it is able, though he swings his bat around in a somewhat lunatic way.

Rubbing her side furiously and just hovering in place for a moment Marybeth shakes her head to get over the pain of the blow and get her head back in the game. Again she quickly begins to fly down the pitch this time trailing a bit behind Carrie as a bit of a safety net incase the quaffle needs to be passed backward. This time Marybeth is quite careful to be on the look out for bludgers as well as Ravenclaws…. those things really do hurt. Letting out a cry of frustration as Ravenclaw steals the quaffle, she moves into position flying toward Bailey with aggressive speed.

Eldric Carver does notice Charlie’s abscense as he flies to meet the bludger with his bat. Carrie of all people on the team is under his particular protection (plus he was already right there), and so off the ball goes, this time toward Bailey, given that the Ravenclaw Chaser seems to be in line to take the stolen Quaffle. “Go!” he calls to the Hufflepuff Chasers, not waiting for the ball to get closer.

“Aughhh!” the girl shrieks in aggravation, in echo to Marybeth, as Carrie loses possession of the quaffle. Attempting to trail Marybeth without competing with her, Carrie flies a fair distance behind her. Spotting Albert, Carrie moves to compensate, trying to maximize Hufflepuff’s position for opportunities on the pitch.

Either Alexandra is exceptionally brave, or she just didn’t see the fact that she was quite close to getting creamed by a bludger. Either way, she carries on zooming about the pitch, looking for any sign of the snitch, while starting to keep an eye on Noémie. Her flying is quite solid, although her turns are wide and occasionally wobbly.

Stolen! “Blast!” Albert exclaims. He leans down over the handle of his broom, pushing himself faster to chase after the stolen Quaffle that is now heading towards his own goal. Faster – faster – he zips ahead of first Carrie and then Marybeth. Albert‘s eyes are fixed firmly on the Quaffle in Clavicle’s hand as he speeds forward, his breath quickening as he spurs his broom ever faster.

Hearing Noémie’s call, Bailey ducks on instinct as the bludger passes him and knocks Marybeth in the side. He races towards Carrie now, catching up to her and letting himself drop a bit beneath her, using her as a protection from the approaching bludger. “Watch out, Clavicle.” Bailey calls. But too late, Clavicle has been fast enough to hustle the quaffle out of Carrie’s possession. Swooping down to finally catch it, then forming up with Clavicle and David to initiate the offence, Bailey calls “David! Left!” and dashes the quaffle over his shoulder towards David at a good speed and just manages to avoid the bludger in time, hoping that he’ll get knocked away soon.

Riley has stayed near his teammates and is ready to meet the bludger, rearing his bat back and giving it a hard whack up towards Alexandra, despite the fact that Charlie appears to be guarding her closely. The bludger flies off and gratefully Riley turns his attention back to his chasers. The other bludger seems to have veered off its course that Tegan sent it off on, and the girl flies towards it to try and prevent it from hitting her own seeker, catching up to it quickly. Soon, Tegan has whacked the bludger back towards the group of chasers, aimed right towards Albert.

Clavicle Gravely races to the side and calls out “YES!” He grins then blanches as a bludger races at him “NO!” He dives trying to get away from the thing but banks…trying to lead it over to the ravenclaw beaters “Assistance!” David hears the call and takes the Quaffle, He chuckles a bit. “That boy is cursed by bludgers. ” he races back towards his scoring hoop!

Faster, faster – Albert flies in a perfect, smooth arc, his hand out to intercept the Quaffle at the peak of its flight – and then with a cry of alarm, he abruptly jerks out of the way as a bludger comes hurtling directly at him. “Aaaaahhh!” Albert manages to escape the bludger, but he is too far away from the Quaffle to even make another try for it. “Blast!” he mutters again, and speeds forward again in a desperate attempt to protect his own goal.

Charlie Linwood snorts. “Hah!” he calls. “That’s not ruddy well going to work!” Really, he’s much too close to Alex (without, you know, being so close as to crowd her) for a bludger to get through. Even in his somewhat panicked state (with a distinct sort of green tinge about the edges), he can at least smack the bludger back toward the Ravenclaws–this time, actually, toward their own Seeker and Captain.

Rhian says, “The Bludgers are getting a beating as Madison now hits one of the Bludgers to the Hufflepuff Chasers in general, while Markham manages to protect his own Chasers and sends that Bludger off to nowhere it seems. Gravely attempts to interfere with the pass to Whittier and knocks the Quaffle off toward Williams in Ravenclaw’s attempts to steal the Quaffle from Hufflepuff. With the Ravenclaw steal, the players move back the other way, though Williams now has a Bludger after him thanks to Carver. Williams tosses the Quaffle back over his shoulder to Mildred as Bryce attempted and failed to steal the Quaffle from the Ravenclaws due to one of the Bludgers getting in the way thanks to Madison. The other Bludger is sent off to Leong by a hit from Markham. Ravenclaw still has the Quaffle and getting awefully close to Marlowe and the goalposts she’s guarding. Linwood manages to intercept the Bludger heading towards Leong and sends it after Ribouet who is seeking the Snitch as well.”

Watching as Albert tries to take the quaffle and fails Marybeth hurries to try and make up for it racing at top speed around Albert and his bludger to make her way behind David. She is a bit behind though and catching up is going to take some doing but that’s what Hufflepuff is good for, trying hard. Marybeth bites down on her lip and really lays into her broom.

Eldric Carver again fails to keep the bludger from one of his Chasers, though mostly because there is only so much flying space, and over half of both teams appear to be attempting to use the same amount. Still, once Albert misses the bludger(or rather, it misses him), it’s an easy enough hit back toward David, nostrils dialated in annoyance. Well, at least continually deflecting the same bludger from and to the same people is something to do. And he does enjoy hitting them. The bludgers, not the people.

Clavicle Gravely recovers and races towards the goal. David is doing well as well, and coming in to the edge of the scoring zone. he suddenly banks right at the scoring zone edge and makes a hand off to Clavicle as the boy races by, Clavicle uses the move he and Bailey practiced a lot. suddenly braking fast and hard, he feints high and shoots at the lower hoop, It’s his first in game scoring attempt.

As David catches safely, Bailey swerves to the left hoop and waves to him, signalling that he’s unguarded. Hovering inches before the zone, he is ready to shoot into it and attempt a score. One fine pass and Ravenclaw would lead in that deciding game. But then the quaffle is tossed to Clavicle, who performed the known manouver. “Come on, Clav…” Bailey mutters and zooms lower to be set up to catch a dropped quaffle or so, watching his teammate attempting the score at the right hoop.

Tegan is ready to leave her seeker to the job she has before her, and then seeing that the bludger has been whacked in her direction, Tegan backtracks a bit, quickly hitting the bludger in the direction of the hoops, hoping that she’ll maybe get it to the Keeper, now that the quaffle is in scoring range so that her team has a chance at scoring. Riley, for his own part, makes his way towards the bludger which is headed toward David, and tries to get a hold on it. Within seconds, he has managed to catch up to it, and whacks it in a direction that he thinks will make it head toward Marybeth, but which instead seems to head down the other direction on the pitch, headed directly toward his own keeper. In a resigned fashion, he begins to fly down to retrieve it an hopefully manage to hit it actually toward a Hufflepuff.

Eldric Carver has banked back somewhat to escape the crowding of Chasers and to keep from entering the scoring zone, a glance sent toward Keelan, but now sees the bludger on it’s way to help and quickly darts into line. There is a massive CRACK as the pink-arm-haired, purple-horn bearing Beater swings back and then forward, this bludger sent chasing after Riley as well. After all, if Riley gets taken out and doesn’t save Van from his own bludger, well, that might be a penalty shot, right?

Throughout the match, Eliza has been hovering a few yards in front of the goalposts, watching the interchange of Quaffle and bludgers, shouting encouragement to her team. “Good! Right, keep it up! Good save, Bryce!” And then, suddenly, the Quaffle is heading towards Eliza, and she is speaking to herself. “Right! Here it comes!” With a little upwards skip, she takes off towards the right-hand goalpost, keeping her eye fixed on the ball. Aiming…aiming…and then WHACK! she spins swiftly to block, hitting the Quaffle away from the goal with a firm smack of the bristles of her broom.

Clavicle Gravely flies stright through the zone and out of the other side. He begins circling back, unlike what some may think, he is not dissapointed he was blocked. Quite the contrary, he looks exstatic he got to try. “I’ll get it next time!” he calls out to Eliza as he circles around laughing, he looks to see where the quaffle is. David never entered the zone, he’s all business, and zips down to assist Bailey to attempt to get the Quaffle.

“Where are you, little snitch?” Alexandra continues to mutter to herself. “Don’t you like me anymore? Come on little snitch… I’ll be gentle…” She’s flying in faster and faster circles now, a sense of desperation and panic raising in her chest. “Snitch snitch snitch… snitch… SNITCH!” A glitter of gold catches the small girl’s eye, and immediate she starts to zoom towards the stands.

Sighing a breath of relief when the Quaffle is deflect Marybeth hurries a bit faster trying desperately to catch up and catch it. She is nearly next to Clavicle and begins racing with him giving him a bit of a glare…. well as much of a glare as a Hufflepuff will muster that is. Her eyes quickly dart forward though onto Bailey.

Tegan flies quickly down the pitch toward the bludger, as she certainly doesn’t want to give Hufflepuff free penalty shots, especially if Van is taken out by it. She manages to get to the bludger in enough time to block it from Riley, and she sends it flying toward Marybeth this time, rather than back toward the keeper. The crowd around the goals causes Tegan to fly back toward it quickly so as to save her own teammates from the bludger if necessary.

“Argh.” Bailey hits his broom and dives for the bounced off quaffle, which just passed him by a few yards. He picks it up, hoping that David and Clavicle got out of the zone quickly enough and rushes towards the left hoop, trying to catch Eliza off guard. “Hewk!” Bailey strikes out and fires the quaffle at the hoop, leaning hard into the shot to give it an enourmous boost. Then he performs a curve and watches the ball rushing for ten points.

Rhian says, “Carver manages to protect his Chasers by sending the Bludger off toward Mildred is passing the Quaffle off toward Gravely to make a scoring attempt. Madison sends one of the Bludgers off to Marlowe, who is intercepted by Carver, which is now going after Marcham, who in turn just sent a Bludger down at his own Keeper, Douglass and is now attempting to intercept it once more. Marlowe protects the goal by knocking the Quaffle away with her broom and while Gravely and Mildred get out of the way, Williams manages to recover the Quaffle to try and score again.”

Riley Markham curses, quiet loudly, as he darts across the pitch after the bludger he sent sailing toward Van. He wasn’t having a terribly good game so far, he thought. Trailing through the sky as fast or faster than the safety regulations for a Windwalker would suggest, he demonstrates a hint of his only real talent, it would seem, on the quidditch pitch — trick flying. Out-running the by fractions, he does his best to position himself between it and the keeper.. only to find Tegan having taken it out from under him. He can’t help but shoot the girl a somewhat angered, narrowed expression. Floating there for a moment with no real purpose, he watches the cluster of people at the other end of the pitch for a long moment before drifting that direction, until he’s lingering around mid-pitch.

Eliza‘s relief at protecting her goal lasts for barely a second before the Quaffle is back in action again. Speeding across the length of the goalposts, Eliza leans down, kicking her heels back as if by doing so, she could make her broom go faster. Closer, closer – Eliza turns outwards, trying to intercept the ball before it can reach the goal It’s to no avail, though – the Quaffle gets to the goalpost a fraction of a second before Eliza does, and it goes through. “Blast it!” she cries, her face crumpling with frustration as the opposing team scores.

Clavicle Gravely does something very odd to Marybeth. he waggles his eyebrows and winks. Clavicle is having the time of his life. He comes up neck and neck with the Hufflepuff girl and pours on the speed, trying to outclass her broom with the egyptian sport model he’s using. He’s racing her. What a cheeky bugger. “Nice hair.” he comments as he pulls ahead a bit. David is racing around back as well. Heading towards the : Quaffle, waiting for it to hit play again!

Spotting that Alexandra has started flying quickly toward something that she herself can’t see, Noémie turns quickly and starts on Alexandra’s path, trying to catch up to the other seeker to hopefully overtake her and snatch the snitch out of the air before her. After several moments, Noémie manages to come up to full speed and comes neck-and-neck with Alexandra, flying perilously close to the girl on her left, trying to keep up as well with the tiny gold ball.

“Aww nuts!” Cries out Marybeth as the Quaffle is scored and Ravenclaw gets in the lead. Worse still that little ravenclaw twig is _hitting_ on her distracting her badly and eliciting another glare. As she turns Marybeth is indeed so distracted that she has no idea that there is a bludger coming right at her until it is far too late. Again poor Marybeth is pummeled this time right in her stomach taking the wind right out of her and probably her lunch too, though wether from the bludger or from the younger boy’s advances is anyone’s guess.

Bailey raises a fist into the air as the quaffle sails through the hoop with a loud “CLONK!” Not saying anything, as the game isn’t decided at all yet, Bailey nods over to his fellow chasers and gets back into formation, peering for a cheer or any other reaction from Tegan, until the game is continued.

Eldric Carver throws Eliza a look, whether sympathetic or annoyed, it’s hard to tell, but either way, he’s distracted from his duties–and then there’s bits of lunch in the air and Eldric swerves hard to the right to avoid being splattered, and misses. Now he’s got purple-and-sandwich colored horns, and bits of partially digested something in his hair. Behold the Hufflepuff’s elder beater’s panic. “Disgusting! Campbell!” Far be it for him to feel sympathy or responsbility, he’s got bits of regurgitated food in his hair. Apparently, far be it for him to remember the closeness of the bludger until it’s almost too late again. Flying erratically, he hits it away-up, really, just far, and continues doing weird circles to get the vomit off without, you know, touching it.

Clavicle Gravely nods to Marybeth. “I had the pea’s for lunch too. by the by…there’s a bludger coming.” he zips off having a laugh. He gives a hands up victory fist to Bailey. “Good show!” He sighs, maybe he can score next time. “I’d stay away from the ham before a game next time though.” David can’t help but go, “Ewh, Gravely…that’s just…gross!”

Gulping back her frustration and anger, Eliza zips behind the goalposts, dipping down to retrieve the fallen Quaffle before it can descend any further. “Blast, blast, _blast_!” she mutters, her expressive face still crinkled in a frown of discontent as she soars back up to the level of the other players, the Quaffle held securely in one hand. Up goes Eliza‘s arm, drawing back to wind up, and then she sends the Quaffle flying in a high, graceful arc over the cluster of people crowded around the Hufflepuff goal with a forceful overhand throw. “Campbell, are you all right?” she calls, a different sort of frown coming to her face as she watches her Chaser’s plight. “Carver! Focus!”

Riley Markham curses, quiet loudly, as he darts across the pitch after the bludger he sent sailing toward Van. He wasn’t having a terribly good game so far, he thought. Trailing through the sky as fast or faster than the safety regulations for a Windwalker would suggest, he demonstrates a hint of his only real talent, it would seem, on the quidditch pitch — trick flying. Out-running the by fractions, he does his best to position himself between it and the keeper. Ultimately, it’s a narrow victory on Riley‘s part. Inching out ahead of his clobbered bludger, he has very little bat-room to swing and his deflection away from Van sents it up high and above the grouped crowd on the end of the pitch, angling up toward the sky. Still, the power he puts behind the hit rather substantial. The sound of the bat cracking against the leather cannonball is echoing. “At least I can do something right!”

Charlie Linwood is startled when Alex begins moving in earnest toward the stands, and looks wildly about himself for signs of the bludgers. Down, he goes, as the bludgers soar upward–”Hey, Carver, what are you playing at?” Charlie missed any Quaffle and/or Gravely induced vomiting, and instead hits the first bludger back down at the group of Ravenclaw Chasers, and turns tail to get to the bludger and aim it again at Noémie. Just a little bit further–CRACK! Well, hopefully it won’t get too near Alex, who he watches with no small amount of trepidition.

Pulling hastily away from the distressed Marybeth – and giving Eldric’s filth-covered form a look that is decidedly less romantic and admiring than any she has given him before – Carrie keeps her focus on the game and races up towards the Quaffle. Looping neatly around Clavicle’s back, Carrie reaches out to snatch up the Quaffle in one hand, holding on to her broom with the other as she speeds towards the Ravenclaw goal. Albert circles around the other way, giving his other teammates a wide berth, and starts flying ahead of Carrie, positioning himself for a forward pass.

Rhian says, “Williams gets back into position and Ravenclaw scores! Ravenclaw has made the first score of the game as it is now Ravenclaw-10, Huffelpuff-0. Marlowe takes the Quaffle and tosses it to one of her own Chasers, Whittier , who with the others heads down the other side of the pitch to try and answer the Ravenclaw swore. The Bludgers come flying back around, one heading towards Campbell which her, once more. See’s she’s having some bad luck today with those Bludgers. The other one Markham manages to deflect from Douglass, sending it off into the sky with quite an amount of force. Linwood manages to get one of the Bludgers, sending it after the Ravenclaw Chasers. What is this? It seems the Seekers have found the Snitch. First it was Leong and Ribouet is after it as well. They are neck and neck as they chase after the Snitch. The match and the cup rely solely on these two ladies as they go after it. Linwood has now sent the second Bludger after Ribouet to try and get her off the chase of the Snitch.”

Both bludgers go flying at once, and Tegan is alarmed to see her seeker targeted once again. She flies quickly toward the bludger in hopes of catching up to it. The seekers are moving very quickly and the girl is having a tough time catching up to the bludger, but she does finally manage to do so, hitting it toward another Hufflepuff chaser with an echoing crack.

Wobbling badly on her broom as the bludger is smacked away by Charlie Marybeth can’t seem to get her broom to go forward even though she is leaning hunched over cursing the sarcastic ravenclaw’s name (which she wished she knew… so she could actually curse at it you know.) she begins sinking toward the ground slowly until she is safely on the grass before collapsing on her side.

Alexandra Leong clenches her teeth as she zooms straight for the stands. Noémie’s presence is not lost on Alexandra. She urges her broom on, gaining a bit of speed, but the quickly upcoming stands forces her to abandon speed for manuverability. The snitch is quite clearly in front of her, a fluttering golden ball, extremely speedy, and extremely erratic. The Hufflepuff Seeker almost slams into a supporting beam holding up the stands as she follows the snitch. Weaving between the various beams, supports, and struts, she tries to keep up, and almost succeeds… until she grazes a beam with her left arm, causing her robes to rip, revealing a deep, argry looking scratch.

Clavicle Gravely was going for the Quaffle as well but Linwood’s well aimed blow sends a bludger at him, His face blanches and he dodges to the side as the cannonball like bludger slams right by him, “Great bones… that thing gave me a shave as it went by… and I don’t have whiskers yet! Markham! A hand!” he zips around to head towards a beater to get the bludger off of him. David banks swiftly and takes off after Carrie to try to Harry her Scary scoring attempt!

Noémie manages to avoid the beam, but is forced to dive a bit and pull back up as she tries to avoid getting hit, pulling forward ever so slightly from Alexandra, but she is still unable to grab onto the tiny gold ball. While they zoom about, avoiding the supports and the beams, and then soon they’re out of the bleachers again, flying now behind them, out of view of the pitch, and thankfully, out of range of the bludgers. The girl’s balance seems off, and her broom begins to veer of its own accord, separating her distance with Alex until she is a full two feet away, though she tries to guide the broom back closer to where the snitch flies. Soon, there is a swift right turn and she follows the snitch back into the stadium, barely missing a beam to the head as she closes the distance between Alex and herself again.

“Campbell!” Eliza shouts. “Get to the nurse! Whittier! Bryce! Spread out! Cover that ground! Only two of you now! Good work, Alex! Keep going!” Either Eliza is no longer feeling the pain of letting the shot go through, or she has gotten too busy with her teammates’ plight to pay much attention to her own emotions. “Come on! Carver, focus! Whittier, watch out behind you! Come on, Alex!”

Charlie Linwood is totally distracted by the disappearance of the Seekers underneath the stands, eyes trying to follow them as he catches glimpses of yellow and blue through the beams–and then there’s Noémie again, and Alex with a cut. “Oi!” Then Charlie seems to remember his duties as a Beater, and spins around to look for the bludgers. Quickly he zooms, rather faster than normal, and the bludger is this time aimed for the Ravenclaw Chasers. He isn’t about to risk putting Alex off track by aiming at Noémie, that’s for certain.

Eldric Carver is very, very distracted by his state of disgustingness, but at the reappearance of Charlie where he belongs there’s a” Took you long enough, Linwood!” and a redoubling of efforts in order to look better. The bludger that missed Clavicle is zoomed toward, now, Eldric‘s expression determined that he get to it before one of the Ravenclaw Beaters can.

Alexandra Leong can’t hear anything but the whistling of the wind past her ears. She’s struggling with her control of her broom; with one arm injured, her turns are becoming less and less controlled. She’s slowing down, little by little, as the pain of her arm starts to register. The snitch is gaining a larger and larger lead on both Seekers, and it threatens to disappear into the sky once more. “Come on come on come on…” Alexandra mutters as she flattens herself further on her broom, hoping to gain speed and control.

Following their captain’s instructions, Carrie and Albert split off, veering sharply towards opposite sides of the field while Carrie accelerates, struggling to move past Clavicle. Albert, too, tries to maintain his speed as he spins off from Carrie – but a bludger is whistling towards him, and he lets out a yelp and wheels even further to the side, sending himself spinning into a barrel roll. Charlie saves him from the bludger, but vertigo is another story – Albert shakes his head quickly to clear it. From far ahead of him, Carrie still has time to laugh, “Leave the fancy flying to me, Albert!” as she speeds ever faster.

“Argh!” Tegan hollers as Clavicle shouts about the bludger, doing her best to go and intercept the one headed toward her chasers now. “Let’s pull close!” she suggests to Riley, flying in toward her team as fast as she can manage and rearing her bat back. The girl is soon amidst the thick of things, her bat held high as she whacks the bludger quickly toward Albert this time, trying to knock out as many opposing chasers as she can manage. “Get the other, would you?” she calls to Riley and bites her lip, following in the direction that she has hit the bludger in case of a quick return.

Riley Markham lofts his brows and dashes forward from having been more or less waiting at mid-pitch, sparing a somewhat side-long look toward Clavicle before pulling up high enough to collect the bludger, somewhat above the rest of the tightly knit group of chasers mingling below. A small bunt to hold the bludger more or less stationary is followed by a hard whack — supposedly in the direction of the approaching Eldric, in an attempt to de-bat him. Instead, however, the bludger archs upward toward Leong, quite by accident, in a startling burst of speed and power.

Rhian says, “Tegan has managed to get the Bludger away from Ribouet and Leong as the two Seekers now disappear among the stands… but there… Leong seems slightly hurt, loosing some ground on the Snitch. Gravely almost got hit by one of the other Bludgers, quite a close call as help is called for the Ravenclaw Chasers. There’s the Snitch, as it and the Seekers come back out onto the pitch. Ribouet seems to have lost a bit of ground on Leong but is working hard to gain it back. Campbell seems too hurt from the two Bludger blows in order to continue as she leaves the pitch to be seen by the Nurse. Linwood has learned his lesson and now sends one of the Bludgers back to the Ravenclaw Chasers who outnumber the Hufflepuffs 3 to 2 in their Chasers. Let’s see how long the Hufflepuffs can hold onto the Quaffle. The Bludgers are going everywhere, Bryce has had to dodge one, the beaters are going insane trying to keep the Ravenclaws off the Hufflepuffs or the Hufflepuffs from scoring.”

Going after Albert and getting between him and Carrie, Bailey watches the quaffle and Albert, trying to guard him as close as he the speed allows it.

Resisting the urge to shove her shoulder into Alexandra, Noémie flies straight for a moment, and then as the snitch ascends, she makes her way into the sky, flying up higher and higher, trying to get her fingers around it. Having the other seeker right neck-and-neck with her makes it more difficult, as well as the snitch staying just out of reach. Noémie‘s face is red from exertion as well as frustration at not having caught the snitch yet, despite the chase it has been. Grunts emit as she reaches out for it, trying to wrap her fingers around it, but only tapping it with them instead, and the snitch begins to descend again at a very steep angle. Noémie follows, however precariously diving as she has practiced so hard. The improvement is apparent, though she is still not all that great at it.

The situation among the Hufflepuff Chasers remains the same: Carrie is still in possession of the Quaffle, and the same bludger is still chasing after Albert. “It’s like that thing has it in for me!” Albert mutters, as he glances apprehensively behind him at the bludger, searching for his team’s Beaters. And then Bailey closes in on his other side, and Albert is caught weaving back and forth, frantically trying to avoid colliding with the bludger on one side and the Ravenclaw Chaser on the other. Carrie attempts to evade with a sharp curve that sends her into a sideways loop, holding on precariously with one hand while still trying to maintain her grasp on the Quaffle.

Charlie Linwood gives out a strangled yell as the bludger moves toward Alex, “This is why I was watching her!” He shoots off to intercept, while being mindful of not getting in the way. Difficult buisness this, as Charlie circles round behind them (sharp! thanks to a lot of practice at it) and manages, barely, to hit the bludger straight diagonally down the other way–more toward the ground than any particular group of people. His face is pale again, but furious.

Alexandra Leong‘s heart almost stops when Noémie grabs at the snitch and makes contact. Luckily, it’s not over yet, and as Noémie pulls into a steep dive Alexandra follows effortlessly. The dive ends only several feet from the ground. The Snitch flattens out it’s trajectory suddenly, and the Hufflepuff Seeker pulls up to follow. The trio – Noémie, Alex, and the snitch – continue straight at breakneck speeds, with neither Seeker within reach, until the snitch makes a sudden left turn. Alexandra pulls left hard, but her arm throbs, and her turn isn’t as sharp as it needed to be. She starts to lose speed as pain shoots up her arm.

Rhian says, “The Snitch flies high into the sky, the girls now neck and neck as they case after it. Ribouet seems to almost have it… but no, it dives to the ground, the two Seekers going after it. It seems one of the Bludgers likes Bryce as it continues to chase him around and away from Whittier who still goes for Douglass and a goal. However, Bryce comes back around and causes Whittier to go into a loop, trying to desperately hang onto the Quaffle. Bludgers flight back toward the Seekers once more though Linwood manages to protect them once more. A hard turn by the Snitch causes Leong to lose ground once more as it seems her arm is bothering her again.”

The flight to the groun causes Noémie to go breathless and she is perhaps just a bit slower than Alex in pulling out of it, and it takes several feet before she has managed to right herself and even up with the Hufflpeuff chaser. As the snitch turns left, Noémie follows suit, turning as hard as she can manage and thrusting her arm out, closing her fingers around the tiny ball with a shout of victory. She had managed to catch the snitch! Ravenclaw wins! She flies down to the center of the pitch and holds up the snitch, her face joyful, and are those tears on the Ravenclaw seeker’s face as she laughs for joy, thrusting her fist into the air again and again jubilantly. “We did it!” She shouts.

Eldric Carver is having a hard time keeping up with the bludger and the Hufflepuff Chasers, given that he had to completely change course to do so. Finally, he joins the fray, grip on his bat so tight his that the whitness in his knuckles seems to spread, he slams into the bludger full force, sending it arcing skyward, as much toward the Seeker-Snitch train as he can from here, hoping Alex will dodge and–there is a very, very loud string of curses here, as the vomit-and-hex covered Beater deflates, quite literally sinking down at a slow, defeated pace.

Rhian says, “Ribouet is still on the Snitch though and manages to catch the Snitch! Ravenclaw wins the match and the Cup! Final score is Ravenclaw – 160, Hufflepuff, 0. A marvelous game by both teams indeed with an excellent chase provided by our Seekers. A wonderful end to a wonderful season for Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff did a wonderful job as well. That is it for Quidditch this year, the next match not starting until November of this year. Well, I am Rhian Brecon of Ravenclaw and I’m signing off for the last time this year. Good luck with your end of term exams everyone.”

Alexandra Leong sinks dejectedly to the ground (luckily not too far up), holding her left arm with her right hand, and grimacing. She is clearly in pain – not surprising, as there is a rather large slither embedded in the poor arm. Tears are falling down her cheeks. She nearly falls off her broom as physical and emotional exhaustion catches up with her.

“Bloody — ” Tegan calls, pulling out of the chase she has been in, she makes her way down to the groun. “Bloody brilliant!” she calls gleefully and throws her arms around Noémie. “Champions!” Her voice rings out loud and echoes as she laughs with Noémie, her joy having overcome her previously serious attitude. “We did it!” The Ravenclaw bleachers seem to have erupted with incredibule noise at this and the girl is hopping up and down with sheer energy, though lord knows how she could have any left.

Keelan Walsh is watching, and has been, and several times she’s had the whistle up and had to drop it at the last moment. Now, however, as the Ravenclaw Seeker closes her hand around the snitch and announces the win, Keelan blows-hard-on the whistle and then, without looking much, zips down to the box. Amid the celebrating Ravenclaws (and the noise from the stands ringing in her ears), she shoves out her open hand. “Snitch please.” Pause, “So I can put it away.” From accross the pitch, some students, jubilant, carry the silver Quidditch cup. A very terse “Congratulations.” is all Keelan has besides a demand for things to be cleaned up. Poor Ravenclaws, a lot of them will have to go to Herbology this week.

Clavicle Gravely almost falls off the broom! “We won? WE WON! ALRIGHT! Great catch Noémie!” He does a prouette in the sky, a spin on the broom and zips off towards the ground where he will try to lift noémie up in a victory dance!

The fight goes out of the bludger – and out of Albert and Carrie, too, as the thunderous cheer erupts from the Ravenclaw bleachers. With one last look at each other, their energy fading swiftly into disappointment, the Chasers drift down to the ground, starting to cluster towards Alexandra and the fallen Marybeth.

Was that…? No, it couldn’t…or really? Noémie has caught the snitch and Ravenclaw has won the cup. It’s like a huge stone falling from Bailey‘s head and a wave of joy filling him up. “We won it! Wooohoooo!” he shouts, raising his fist and cheering wholeheartedly. Bailey performs a huge turn over the Ravenclaw bleachers and then lands on the pitch. He runs towards his teammates and helps Clavicle to lift up Noémie to celebrate their captain.

Looking quite green Marybeth stares up at Clavicle as if willing him to fall off of his broom when the game is won. “Well…” she croaks out rubbing her stomach. “Im still splitting up my bag of marbles so the joke is on you Ravenclaw.” Yes even with possibly broken ribs, a defunct stomach and scars of ravenclaw flirtation Marybeth is still a joker.

“Bravo!” Van calls as she has finally made her way to the ground, coming in to hug her captain and the other female beater. “Good on everyone!” she says, the tears that have been threatening to fall finally coming streaming down her face. “What a way to go out!” she comments, but her comments are drowned by the noise on the pitch as she celebrates with her teammates excitedly.

For the briefest of moments, Eliza‘s face crumples, her eyes closing against the sight and sound of the other team’s victory. But she opens them again, and swallows hard, and brings her broom down to earth in a smooth, controlled arc. Eliza steps lightly off of it, runs a hand backwards through her dark hair, and begins to stride, shoulders straight and posture upright, towards the center of the pitch for the closing handshake.

Charlie Linwood bites his lip and lets himself go limp. It was over. They hadn’t won, but they put up a good fight. Not typical behavior, this time when he flies down to the pitch he stays with the team, giving Alex a–well it’s almost kind look. “Want to go to the nurse, Leong?” That’s about as many words as he’s said to her in a row for a long time. Eliza, he doesn’t look at. Actually he’s mostly muttering things to his chest rather than looking up at people’s eyes or anything.

“Oh, right, sorry Professor,” Noémie tells Keelan and wipes her eyes from their tears as she hands over the snitch to the referee, detatching herself from her excited teammates. “No, no, guys,” she tells the boys who seem to be bent on picking her up in celebration, and she strides over to Eliza, putting her hand out much more cheerfully. The girl’s face cannot hide her obvious joy at being the winners of the match. “Well matched,” she tells Eliza with a mighty grin. Looking to the stands, there appears to be a Ravenclaw fifth year who looks to be trying to garner her attention, and she waves excitedly. “I’ll see you all in the commonroom later, there’s sure to be a party!” she tells her team and trots off, looking at the stands, where the boy has disappeared, and makes her way off the pitch very quickly, broom still in hand.

Clavicle Gravely then does something differen’t After hopping around with the team, he crosses the field to the hufflebuff side and offers first, Charlie a hand. “Good show.” he says stoically.

Keelan Walsh closes her hand on the snitch and turns to put it in the box. The bludgers have moved in and are strapped down, still somewhat wiggly from getting used. With a click, all balls in need of restraint are returned, and now the Quaffle is placed in as well. Noémie runs off without the cup and so it is presented to the rest of the team, though it seems that as Keeper and oldest, it is shoved closer to Van. Keelan, for her part, moves away from the students (especially as those in the stands trickle down) and out.

“Good match,” Eliza replies, with a firm nod and a sincere tone, giving Noémie’s hand a strong shake, with a true, honest smile that even lingers for a moment after the handshake has finished. And then Eliza is off towards the edge of the pitch, reaching Alexandra’s side in a few long, swift strides. “Come on,” she says softly, stretching her hand down to touch Alexandra’s shoulder gently. “Let’s get you up to the nurse.”

Alexandra Leongshakes her head at Charlie, although her arm is turning an interesting shade of purple. She is trying very hard not to burst into tears, but her efforts are less than successful. In a few seconds, she completely loses control and flings herself into Charlie, sobbing into his shoulder.

Does Charlie look like a crying post? Still, he’s in such a subdued mood that he merely pats her back a bit awkwardly and lets her cry. “It’s okay, it isn’t your fault the Snitch went under there. You’d've had it otherwise, really.” Clavicle’s offer of a handshake is just stared at–he does, after all, have a girl sobbing on him. He still won’t look at Eliza, and probably won’t for at least a week or so after this.

Clavicle Gravely lets his hand drop awkwardly. “Right then.” he nods and looks to the other Hufflepuffs, “Good match.” but feeling more awkward then anything he heads back to his side’s locker room.

There is no anger in Eliza‘s expression as she looks down at her teammates – just sympathy, and a little of her own sorrow. “Come on,” she says again, still softly, with a gentle but strong tug at Alexandra’s shoulder, transferring the weeping girl from poor bewildered Charlie to herself. “Let’s go.” Eliza swallows hard, and starts to walk her sobbing Seeker off the field.

Fingers intwined, gently tugging on her arm to lead her to the courtyard, Joseph affects a rather self-assured smile, a sort of knowing, thoughtful expression. “Alright, here.” He offers quietly as they enter the courtyard. “The present isn’t something that I had to take you here to see, but it’s rather more private in here than in the common room.” Offering only this by way of an explanation, he releases her hand, stepping back and leaning back against a wall, watching her in silence, silently begging her to ask what his purpose is, what the surprise birthday present is.

“Can I open my eyes now?” she asks, reaching forward with her arm until she touches his chest with her fingertips. She does cheat ever so slightly and peek one eyelid open to check to see where she is. Ah, the courtyard. “So, can I?” she asks again, stepping forward a little closer to him, with her eye shut again. Noémie doesn’t want to cheat too much, after all. It’s her surprise!

Shaking his head – not that Noémie can actually see him, but it’s the principle of the thing – Joseph is silent for a moment before offering, “No, not yet,” and leaning forward and kissing her. As well as being part of the surprise, this ensures that she is thoroughly distracted and is therefore not necessarily going to notice as he slips the silver band off his finger and, taking her right hand, slips it onto hers. It’s rather too big, his hands being bigger than hers, but it’s the principle of the thing.

In his estimations that she will be distracted, Joseph is quite right and she leans against him rather comfortably, leaning her head on his shoulder. However, as she feels something cold slipping onto her right hand, her eyes fly open and she stands up. “Oh, my!” She exclaims, putting her hand closer to her face to examine it. “It’s so pretty, Joseph!” Noémie seems to be quite pleased with her gift and, in fact, throws her arms around Joseph’s neck, kissing at his face enthusiastically.

Flushed quite pink, Joseph only replies sheepishly, “It’s – it’s nothing really special, it’s more sentimental than anything. I’ve worn it myself for a long time, so my hand feels sort of naked and empty without it.” Then, he chuckles softly to himself and explains, in the language of teenage boys who don’t know what else to say so fall back on corny compliments, “But it’s appropriate, because I feel naked and empty without you, Noémie.” At this point, he really does run out of things to say, and so dissipates his embarassment by returning her excited kisses, his arms snaking around her waist.

Listening to his comments about the ring, Noémie‘s face pinkens and she seems to go temporarily weak in the knees as she looks at the ring more closely, transferring it from her regular ring finger over to her thumb so that it won’t fall off. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she tells him, rapturous eyes turned up towards him as she just looks at him for a moment. It seems a moment before it occurs to her that now might be the appropriate time to give her gift to him. “Oh!” she exclaims aloud and detatches herself from his arms carefully, pointing out her wand. “Accio gift!” is said loudly, and soon a rather large box comes flying on its way towards her, though it takes a moment in coming.

Smiling at the prefect, cheeks still flushed quite brightly pink, Joseph seems totally devoid of any comeback except for, “That’s my job. Saying ridiculously sweet things to you, and beating down any other guy who dares to try.” As the box flies in, he raises his eyebrows, glancing between it and Noémie. “Er. Is this my birthday present, or are you just going to open the rest of your gifts in front of me, just to taunt me?”

“I’ll tell Rupert to watch his back then,” Noémie quips with a grin, and then brandishes the gift, wrapped in green with ample amounts of blue ribbon. “It’s for you, smartie-pants. You ought to know me better than that.” The box is rather sizable, and being filled entirely with gourmet sweets of various kinds, as well as a book of recipes for candy making, is rather heavy. “I hope it doesn’t pale in comparison.” She can’t help but look down at her own ring, and though she finds herself thinking of resizing it, the sentiment in which it has been given is mostly what is on her mind.

“Yeah, he’d better watch his back.” Joseph replies sternly, planting his hands on his hips and looking very pointedly at Noémie. “Or I’ll clock him one when he’s least expecting it. And you wouldn’t want me to get in trouble again.” Distracted at this point by the fact that, indeed, it is his gift, he bends down to open it – then, spying what is within it, wastes now time in springing upright again and seizing Noémie around the waist, kissing her firmly before she has a chance to step away. Does it pale in comparison? Well, if it does, this ought to fix it.

Giggling a bit as he draws her in again, Noémie watches as he sets the gift carefully down on the ground and then rather happily leans against him again, kissing him back quite enthusiastically. A better birthday, she could not have hoped for herself. Even as a light rain begins to trickle down over their heads, she does not even pause, instead snaking her arms up around his neck and rising ever so slightly on tiptoes. The better to kiss him with, of course!

The rain, of course, simply means that other people are far less likely to randomly walk in and interrupt them; for his part, Joseph seems not at all put out by the rain, pulling the prefect closer with one arm, the other hand running through her hair and brushing against the back of her neck. When he does inch back from her after a moment, it is only to smile a little sheepishly and whisper, just loud enough for her to hear, “Happy birthday, weeping willow tree Noémie.”

“Happy birthday, Joseph,” Noémie responds rather cheerfully, glancing up at the rain and then shaking her head. Rain had never yet ruined her birthday, and it certainly wasn’t going to marr this one. The girl giggles a bit and deliberately runs her hands backwards through his hair, grinning as it stands on end. As there is nobody else in the courtyard, and few who would venture into this part of it, the more secluded area, she feels comfortable leaning up and kissing him quite enthusiastically, with complete disregard of whatever could happen. Happy birthday, indeed.

Rain might not be putting a damper on a certain birthday, but it sure put a certain billy goat out of sorts! Some students may have caught sight of the black and white fellow grazing on the lawns the past few days, but Buck is probably a stranger to the bulk of the student population at present– as is Julie Wolffe, his owner, and Hogwarts’ new Gamekeeper. Little hooves trippety-trot on the cobblestones, followed by Ms Wolffe’s brisk steps to keep up with him, muttering all the while as she goes. “It’s not my fault it started raining, Buck! You know you could just stay out there if you weren’t such a little sook… besides, I’m supposed to be meeting this Syril… Cecily… Sybil… person out here soon…” all this is said under her breath, as she adjusts the hood of her robes, and her gaze darts about for somewhere appropriately undercover– secluded– to wait with Buck until the Hogwarts Nurse arrives.

Though, briefly, a look of annoyance passes over Joseph‘s face – his hair is sticking up all funny, now, it’s going to take at least thirty seconds before it flattents itself back down to normal! – he is quite promptly distracted again, and stops caring fairly immediately. Needless to say, he reciprocates the kiss with equal enthusiasm, one hand running through her hair, while his other hand trails slowly up her side, starting at her hip and moving upwards. It’s quite potentially problematic that at this point, he doesn’t notice or really care about the approach of the new gamekeeper; if, at this point, he is still paying enough attention to the world around him to hear the clip-clop of hooves and footsteps, he probably writes it off as being particularly heavy raindrops. Or something. Anything to stop him actually paying attention to what’s going on around him.

For her own part, Noémie does not even notice the clip-clop of the goat’s hooves and instead focusses on the boy in front of her and the tingles that she’s feeling. Despite their repetitions and variations on this very same scenario often over the last several weeks, she can’t help but feel a tingly euphoric feeling when they indulge again. As if she knows of his annoyance with her mussing of his hair, the girl smooths it down and then stands higher on her tiptoes and hugs him tighter around the neck.

Julie Wolffe ‘s keen roving eyes make quick work of the courtyard, and soon she spots what she believes to be the ideal alcove to hover in with Buck until the nurse arrives. But a step closer and another squint causes the Gamekeeper to freeze, double-take spectacularly, and instinctively grab the goat by the horns. First her eyes widen, then she gives a small shake of her head as though to dismiss it, then another stare- no, that’s most definitely two students, not a creature with four arms wearing school robes- at which she finds her cheeks burning bright red. Drawing a breath and making to turn around and pretend she didn’t see aaaanything, her plans of a silent getaway are foiled when, in protest to being held fast to the spot, Buck lets out a terrific, monster of a bleat, shattering through the gentle patter of rain in the courtyard.

Pulling away from the girl only long enough to adjust his angle, so as not to injure his neck, and swooping in immediately to resume the supposedly private kissing, Joseph hesitates for a moment, his hand rested on Noémie’s ribcage. Dare he? Well, seeing as they’re quite alone, and it is very nearly his birthday, why not? Yes, he certainly does dare to – but only briefly, indeed, for the loud bleating of the goat cannot be ignored, even in this state. Almost jumping out of his skin at the sound, and certainly untangling himself as thoroughly as possible from Noémie, cheeks flushed scarlet, his eyes dart around the courtyard for the source of the sound. Eyes falling on Julie and the goat, he seems incapable of any response other than a mortified, frozen expression. The word here is ‘ohgodohgodohgodi’mintroublenow’.

“Oh, goodness, I’m so sorry I’m late, Miss Wolffe!” Sibyl Wexler bursts out of the castle at an energetic waddle, calling out to Julie with a wave. The nurse scarcely gives a glance upwards at the rain, but just tugs her cloak a little more tightly around her ample form and bulging belly as she bustles down the stairs into the courtyard and towards the new staff member. “Were you waiting long? I did mean to be here sooner, only there was a terrible outbreak of antlers, and – ” Sibyl‘s rapid stream of chatter breaks off abruptly – she too has seen Joseph and Noémie, and she stops short on the second-to-last step. “Oh my.” Sibyl‘s expression is somewhere between shock and amusement as she looks down at her young relative and his friend, tangled in their frantic struggle to pull apart.

Turning quite red as the voices and the bleating of the goat fill the courtyard, Noémie, too struggles to detatch herself from him and tucks her arms quickly behind her back, stepping away from the other Ravenclaw. Oh, dear, staff members. This cannot bode well for the prefect, whose job it is to set a good example, rather than to snog in private areas on the grounds. Or at all for that matter. The girl, for her own part, appears rendered speechless as she just looks from Julie to Sibyl and back again with a very red face.

When Sibyl reaches Julie, the new Gamekeeper is poised with both hands cupped over her face from her nose to her chin, largely covering the open-mouthed expression of shock and amusement that is otherwise evident in her eyes. In a normal situation she’d probably have launched into a dozen reasons why Sibyl shouldn’t be sorry, but being as it is, she simply offers a bit of a choking snort, a sidewards glance, and a slow lowering of hands to reveal her biting her lower lip. But where Julie Wolffe remains frozen and utterly unsure what action to take, Buck has no such trouble! With a much softer, garbled sort of bleat from the back of his throat, and the freedom he attained when Julie‘s hands were flung up to cover her mouth, he ambles forwards to join the pair of students. They’re in the shelter, right? So that’s where he wants to be! And before then can even fully extricate themselves, the billygoat has reared onto his hind legs, planted his forehooves on the boy’s upper arms, and stretched up to try and nibble his earlobe.

Of all people to suddenly walk in and catch an eyeful of Joseph and his girlfriend in the courtyard, why oh why did it have to be Sibyl Wexler and the new gamekeeper? Flushed positively scarlet, the boy lowers his gaze to the ground, clearing his throat and kicking at the ground with one foot. “I, uh — hello, Madame Wexler.” He is utterly mortified, it seems. “I was just, uh, we were, I just gave her a birthday present and, um, her birthday’s today, which is the day before my birthday, which is tomorrow, uh, which I’m sure you knew before, seeing as we’re related and all and, um, yeah, so we were – that is, me and, and Noémie – we were just swapping our gifts…” While Noémie falls into an awkward silence, it falls upon him to ramble incessantly until someone silences him. “Just gifts and, er, you really rather took me, and probably us, by surprise there, so, um, we weren’t really doing anything too untoward, I promise… how much did you two see, anyway?” Sure. That’s reeeally going to get him out of hot water. Especially as there’s now a goat trying to eat him, a goat which he, startled, pushes away from him quite abruptly, almost stumbling over backwards as he tries to escape it.

Sibyl presses her mouth tightly shut as she listens to the two students’ protests, but no matter how hard she tries, she cannot keep her lips from twitching up at the corners. “Happy birthday,” is all that she can say, and the words quiver with affectionate but barely-restrained amusement. And then Buck springs forward, and Sibyl lets out a startled cry. “Oh! Oh, dear, are you all right? Miss Wolffe, can you get him back?” But even amid the nurse’s concern for Joseph, sparks of laughter still dance in her eyes, and there is a giggle just behind her voice.

Buck finds himself pushed against, and totters briefly on his hind legs, forehooves waving fruitlessly in the air. He lets out another bleat, more anxious sounding, before his front hooves return neatly to the ground and his world makes sense once more. But the abrumpt action from the boy has nonetheless triggered a reaction of sorts in the billy, who promptly lowers his head and bunches up in a most telling fashion, muscles coiling and aim being readied…

“Thank you,” Noémie responds quietly, her eyes darting to Joseph after she says this. She can’t help but look in a bit of horror as the goat begins trying to eat his ear. It seems, however, that she is rendered speechless by the scene before her. Two faculty before her, her boyfriend being attacked by a goat, and all Noémie can do is stare mutely as it all unfolds. What a situation to be in for the girl who has a Quidditch match coming up soon for the Quidditch cup, and whose demeanor is usually quite reserved, so as not to cause any undue attention to her, and therefore accrue no point losses or detentions. All is lost now, as she will have to submit to whatever the teachers decide is appropriate for the two of them. Of all the days to get caught!

Of course, the prospect of a student being harmed by an animal is about the last thing to ever cross Julie‘s mind, as it usually functions much the other way around… but most especially when the animal involved is her own! But as the kindly Ms Wexler calls out in concern, the Gamekeeper seems to startle back into the moment and darts forward to grab a hold of the animal before he carries out his threatened charge. One hand gripping hard and fast at the base of his horns, she urges him gently backwards and crouches down beside him once they’re back beside Sibyl. As far as the students go, however… looking back up to them, the grin returns back to her features and a laugh threatens to bubble from her throat. “Yes. Happy Birthday.” She coughs, looks briefly to the nurse for direction, then shrugs with a snort. “I daresay the world would be a happier place if everyone could exchange gifts that way, mm?”

Without any grace or agility, the charging goat just means Joseph falls backwards onto his backside, his arms flying up to try and shield him from the goat. Certainly, Julie intercepts the goat before it gets to him, though the way he is kicking and waving his arms, it is possible that he hasn’t actually noticed this. When he realises that his efforts to scare off the goat are entirely unnecessary, he picks himself up and clears his throat audible, his cheeks flushed quite pink as he mutters, “It was a very good birthday present, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Oh, good!” Sibyl breathes out a heavy sigh of relief as Joseph emerges unharmed from his struggle with the goat, and even glances down at Buck with a vague smile. “Thank you, Miss Wolffe,” she adds, giving her fellow staff member a more secure and more honest smile. Joseph’s remark draws an odd coughing sound from Sibyl, but she chokes it back, and enters upon a mighty struggle to push her expression back towards seriousness. “Joseph, Noémie, dears,” the nurse begins, still desperately trying to keep the amused quiver out of her voice as she looks down at the students, “don’t you really think you should…go somewhere more private? With…fewer goats?” Another choked cough escapes from Sibyl, and one broad hand flies up to her mouth in an increasingly vain effort to suppress – or at least hide – her grin.

Startled, Noémie looks at Joseph with wide eyes. Of all the things to say! And to a staff member, even! As Sibyl makes her statement, the horror on Noémie‘s face doesn’t decrease, and she looks to Joseph, to Julie, and then back to Sibyl as she stammers for a moment. “Well — we — we didn’t plan this at all, we were just going to exchange gifts, otherwise we’re usually in more private places — ER — that is — what I meant to say …” She trails off, her face turning very red as she finishes this haphazard statement, and she can’t help but just look helplessly at the nurse, hoping upon hope that the two of them won’t get detentions or point losses for it.

Where Sibyl has at least some success in suppressing her amusement, Julie Wolffe fails abysmally. First ‘a very good present’, then ‘fewer goats’ then ‘usually more private’ …and the Gamekeeper loses it, her snorted laughter and helpless chuckles bursting out, shoulders shaking in mirth even as she keeps a tight grip about Buck’s horns. “Oh, goodness, oh, dear. Oh dear.” Between her chuckles, Julie manages to get a few words out, and the more she tries to speak the more she regains control of her voice. She lifts her free hand as though to silence the girl, and gulps back another bout of giggles. “-best not tell us what you usually do, Miss. But Sibyl- I mean, Mrs Wexler is right. There’s far more private places to go about sharing…” Snort. “Those sorts.” Twitter. “Of gifts!”

Flushed brilliant pink, Joseph gathers himself together, unable to see the inherent humour in the situation, reaching out to grab at Noémie’s wrist. “Come on,” he offers to her, his voice rather strained. “Can, can we just go… somewhere else? Please?” Glancing sidelong at Sibyl, he adds, “And… you won’t… tell anyone, will you S-Madam Wexler?” He’s mortified enough as it is without using the wrong name.

And Sibyl had been doing so well, too! When Julie starts to lose it, so does she – the nurse’s careful composure erupts into helpless giggles, and she reaches out to brace herself against the new gamekeeper with a hand on Julie’s arm. “Oh – oh my,” Sibyl chokes. “You’re not in trouble, dear,” she manages to say, between fits of laughter. “Really, you’re not. Just – not in the courtyard! Really, there are plenty of spots in the rose garden, and several rooms on the fifth floor that nobody goes to, and – ahem!” Sibyl cuts off again, with a quite different kind of choked sound as she clears her throat loudly. “Er. Right. Yes. Just not in the courtyard where everyone can see.”

“Yes, Madam Wexler, of course,” Noémie answers the woman with a nod, and a diversion of her eyes, though when she diverts them, the only fall on Joseph, her face still very red. Oh, what a birthday this has been. “We’ll… we’ll, er, keep that in mind for next time.” No amount of pleading and trying to tell her that it wasn’t planned, that it had all been spontaneous, is going to quell the embarrassment that fills the prefect right now, though a good amount of relief floods her as Sibyl assures them that they aren’t in trouble.

Of course, Julie is still a little too new to the place to really feel comfortable telling anybody off yet- not to mention that she scarcely knows any students NAMES yet, so wouldn’t know who she was telling off even if she tried! Suffice to say, the students are certainly safe from her at the moment. She grins back up to Sibyl as she steadies herself upon her, and then when they’ve both regained composure she pulls a lead and a collar from inside her robes, clips them neatly onto Buck, and stands back up with the goat firmly in check. Giving a brisk shake of her head to shake some droplets from her hair, she offers the students a curt nod and then turns her full attention back to the nurse. “Well! I’d best get Buck back to the stables, keep him out of the weather… and then, perhaps, you can start by showing me around -inside- the Castle?”

Coughing a few times and tugging at Noémie’s arm, Joseph seems to want nothing more than to get out of there. “It was nice, uh, seeing you, Madame Wexler.” His voice rather higher-pitched than usual, and offered at a rather low volume, he departs just as quickly as he possibly can, his box of sweets in one arm, gesturing for Noémie to follow him hastily with the other arm. As he thinks he’s out of earshot of the faculty members, possibly to himself, possibly to Noémie, he adds, “Okay, step one, find somewhere actually private….”

One more “Ahem!” brings Sibyl nearly back to normal, but there is still a twinkle in her eyes and a grin on her face as she nods. “Yes, Miss Wolffe, that would probably be best. I’ll meet you in the main entryway. And you two should get inside too,” she adds to Joseph and Noémie. “You don’t want to catch cold!”

Noémie pauses, staring a moment as Sibyl says this, and then shakes her head, quickly following Joseph as he makes his way into the school. Perhaps the two of them can find these rooms on the fifth floor and put them to good use. The two of them very much could use a distraction now, after all. As she trots along down the hallway with Joseph, Noémie finds herself twiddling the ring on her thumb and smiling to herself despite what has just happened. Yes, even though she’s embarrassed as can be, it was still a happy birthday.